


BloodBound

by nymph_L



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Order, Hux Backstory, Memory Loss, Mesmerizing, Partners to Lovers, Political Alliances, Political Betrayals, Politics, Power Play, Resistance, Shameless Smut, Vampire Politics, Vampire Sex, Vampires, blood binds, from enemies to lovers, from lovers to enemies, vampire powers, vampire!hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16206308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymph_L/pseuds/nymph_L
Summary: Bound by blood... After you left the First Order and joined the Resistance, moved with a deep hatred for General Armitage Hux, you never expected to meet said man in a Gala in Canto Bight, nor that your past was intimately interlaced with his. When the past is written in blood, can you start anew, a new chapter of your own, or are you forever bound to him? When all is said and done, can you still keep on hating a man who has all eternity to hate himself?





	1. Prologue - Leave a Scar

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, darlings!   
> No, this is not Lie to Me xD I'm sorry? But this is the vampire!hux fic I've promised you some time ago! xD  
> Since it's spooky month and honestly, I've been struggling with Brazilian politics - as someone heavily engaged with politics it couldn't be any different - and this dark and dangerous upcoming elections, I couldn't get myself to write more of Lie to Me, nor of In the General's Bed, my mood always affects my writing greatly... Aaaaaand... I didn't want to leave you without updates this week, I decided to post the Prologue of my vampire!hux fic, something I'd only do on Halloween xD 
> 
> Well, I can only hope you like this story. I don't intend on making it a huge one. I've ALWAYS loved vampires, since I was first gifted with a Dracula's lantern when I was four (weird gift for a kid, right?), and then this love only grew when I watched Interview with the Vampire, and read Anne Rice still as a teenager, and later on watched a few tv shows (I'm still not over The Originals and Joseph Morgan's Klaus. I also love True Blood xD). Recently I've played a game called BloodBound, from where I got the name for this story, and I could come back and adjust a few things in this prologue and set the course for this story xD
> 
> Anyways... If you've never listened to Leave a Scar from Marilyn Manson, then you should <3 <3 <3
> 
> Happy reading! 
> 
> PS: This story is a gift for SassmasterJedi. I hope you like it, darling! <3

**_“Whatever doesn't kill you is gonna leave a scar.”_ **

 

“DID YOU SUMMON ME, SIR?"

The words to leave your lips were no more than a whisper. It was the middle of the night and the room — his room — was remarkably dark. Apart from the dim light coming from the study room, there was no other source of illumination in the darkened space.

You wondered if he had a strong headache or something like that, for he simply never liked darkened spaces — he never talked about it, but you guessed it was somewhat related to his troubled childhood and abusive father. And for a fact, it had been weeks since he last summoned you. Or even stayed in the same room as you without at least another person in it. When he spoke, his eyes were never focused on you.

They were always somewhere; always distant and unfeeling.

At first it hurt, but you decided it was to be expected. He was a newly-appointed General and you were… just a common officer. You were remarkably good at what you did — being his assistant, it is if he would still have you —, but weren’t all in the First Order? You were no better than the officer with whom you shared your quarters.

The mere thought of him seeking you now — weeks after your last encounter had your heart racing and your palms sweating.

A sigh left you as you waited for him to speak. The eerie silence coupled with the fact you could not distinguish his features made you tremble. Couldn’t he just speak at once?

“Careful with your words, Officer (L/N).” You did not know if he left his armchair _or…_ Either way, you could hear his voice as clearly as if he were speaking inside your head. You shuddered. “Your insubordination will not be tolerated any longer.”

You furrowed your brows.

Your eyes widened.

Did you say the words aloud? You were sure that was absolutely _not_ the case.

You straightened your back and held your breath.

“I apologize, Sir.”

You were met with silence and silence only — which, honestly, wasn’t far from what you were used to. He always had this terrible habit of staying quiet when you needed him to say something.

_How you hated him!_

He shifted in his seat. The sound of something — a glass perhaps? — placed over a hard surface — wood, metal? — startled you. The silence was so sepulchral, you could hear your own heart beating against your ribcages…

…and your breath.

_But not his._

You could actually see your own breathing. It left your lips and became a white smoke in the blackish space. Did this place — his room — get any colder?

You were getting tired of this. Of his aloofness, of his cold shoulder and inexplicable behavior. Before he travelled — it is, before he left the Starkiller base and went on some mission for the Supreme Leader in the Inner Rim —, everything was just fine between you.

He was never an outspoken man — not about his feelings at least —, but you figured out he loved you. No matter how harsh he usually was, you knew he cared. _Kriffs_ , you loved him too!

But now you weren’t so sure of his feelings.

“For _kriffs’_ sake, will you just speak?”

As soon as you said that — as soon as the words left your mouth in an angry, senseless outburst —, you regretted it. Instead of some sort of rebuttal or promises of punishment, there was a sharp intake of breath.

When he did that it usually meant he was pissed off.

But so were you.

“I am leaving.”

_For good._

You could’ve added. You weren’t taking any of this crap. _His crap_. Not anymore.

Turning on your heels to leave, you were surprised by his bare fingers around your wrist. Startled, you tried to yank your arm off his grasp, only to have him tightening his grip — much stronger and much colder than what you were used too; again did someone drop the temperature in this room? It was freezing! — around you.

His voice was raspy — was he drunk? —, cold and unbelievably lowly. If not for having his lips so close to your ear you doubted you’d be able to hear him, “You are right. You are leaving. For good, (L/N).”

The meaning of his words hit you like a wild _bantha_ on the run. But the fact he used your surname in such proximity made your heart clench.

It had been one year and half since the two of you crossed the boundaries of boss and assistant and became lovers, and except from when you were working, he never called you other than by your name.

If he now thought appropriate to go back to last name basis, it meant things between you had shifted. They were beyond repair now.

You bit your bottom lip, suppressing the need to cry — you had been very sensitive lately, ever since he left you couldn’t get a grip of your emotions, “What do you mean, Sir?”

His hands were running over your nude arms, very, very lightly, as he walked around you, surveying your form. You could not see him, but you were sure he could at least _feel_ all of you.

“Wearing only an excuse of a slip…” He said against your ear. _No, he purred_. The sound sent a shock straight to your core. Subconsciously, you leaned against him — all disappointment and anger completely forgotten. “Did you expect something out of this encounter?”

You were so shocked at how nonchalantly he sounded, you had to try and disentangle yourself.

He didn’t allow it.

He wouldn’t.

“Stop biting your lips,” he hissed as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. It only helped you brush against his crotch.

The two of you gasped.

He was hard.

_Very hard._

And pulsating against you.

Somewhere in your mind you wondered how he could know you were biting your lips. If you couldn’t see him, it was certain he couldn’t see you either, right?

Your thoughts were cut short when his bare fingers — where were those damned gloves of his? He seldom took them off when you made love — reached the inside of your thighs and outlined your lips.

A moan escaped you as you ground against him. It had been weeks since he had last touched you — and you could not recall a better time. Even if everything was a bit fogged in your mind, your body would never forget the sensations he awakened in you.

He was good in bed — remarkably good, but you thought that it was more because the two of you were acquainted with each other’s body by now —, very enthusiastic and controlling. But what you experienced in his arms last time was beyond expectations. He took you without hurry — and you never thought slow sex could be _that_ good — drawing pleasure out of our body even when you thought that was no longer possible. _Kriffs,_ he even made you climax by merely caressing your neck with his lips — and biting into it too — and playing with the sidelines of your breasts.

When he was done with you, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. You were glad he was there to hold you, otherwise you’d have collapsed. And then… He left. And you were too sleepy and tired — exhausted, really — to ask where he was going.

“You wanton creature,” he whispered against your earlobe. His lips were everywhere. The outline of your ear, your neck and your shoulder. His nude fingers — the ones that weren’t scissoring you and yanking from you sweet mewls —, were working with the straps of your nighty. “Shhh… Do you want anyone to hear us?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Your breath became heavier.

No.

_Of course not._

But as he pinched your clit to the point you could no longer distinguish pain from pleasure, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan.

“General!” you cried out, sinking your nails against his skin. It seemed much firmer, much… _unbreakable_ than before. Usually, he’d hiss against your ear, reprimand you on your behavior. Now, all he did was to remove your only piece of clothing completely from you.    

The black silky fabric slid down your body, leaving your perky and so very sensitive — everything about you was beyond sensitive; pain and pleasure could be felt in a higher level of intensity — breasts exposed to the coldness of the room.

You even thought about crossing your arms against them — to keep your body warm, to hide yourself —, but he growled — _he actually growled,_ like an animal — against your ear. His slightly elongated fangs rasped against your neck in warning.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Better than having his lips against your neck was to have his hand wrapped around your throat — cutting your breath slightly short — as he brought you to an earthshattering climax.

The mere thought had you sneaking your fingers through his hair — you knew he hated when you did that, but you did so nonetheless —, burying his face against the curve of your neck.

“Armitage,” you whispered in his ear, as you brought his hand to your breasts. All you wanted was his mouth on them, worshipping them as he usually did. However, he seemed obsessed with your neck; his teeth scrapped the skin lightly.

His fingers inside you brought you each second closer to your ending — their inhuman pace, sometimes very fast and then very, _very slow_ , had you moaning shamelessly, bucking your hips against his; pressing your ass against his crotch. Your hand left his — letting him manipulate your body on its own — and palmed him through his trousers.

So hard.

_So kriffing hard._

He breathed deeply against your ear — his hips, too, bucked against yours, against your hand. You even tried to shift in his arms, so you could touch — work — him better, but he didn’t allow you.  

“(Y/N…),” he whispered back in a warning, before he sank his sharp teeth into you. The pain of your skin being teared apart should’ve you asking for him to stop. Instead, you cried out in pleasure as his thumb found your clit and expertly handled it.

His fingers inside of you reached an inhuman pace as you bucked your hips against his hand. Pain and pleasure mixed in the most explosive of sensations as your orgasm raked through you.

Your lids fell closed; you surrendered completely to him.

A moan left you.

_Him._

You were no longer sure.

But as your body shook against his — with his fingers working you inhumanly slow now, till he dragged another orgasm out of you —, you couldn’t help but feel tired.

 _Exhausted._       

Your body went limp in his arms. Your heart, which always beat at a frenzy pace — especially in the last few days, as if more than one organ beat inside of you — slowed its pace.

And as the pleasure became only a tingly sensation running through your body, you couldn’t help but feel pain.

Excruciating.  

It hurt.

It _kriffing_ hurt. 

Still, he wouldn’t let you go. He wouldn’t remove his teeth from your skin.

It burned.

It _kriffing_ burned.

_Armitage!_

As expected, there was no response from him. You weren’t even sure you said his name out loud, or if you just imagined it. Your hands went back to his hair, pulling at the ginger strands strongly. Forcefully.

“Stop! I’m…”

You wanted to warn him…

To make him stop…

To tell him that you were…

That inside of you…

You grabbed onto his hair with renewed strength, yanking him away from you. The will — _the need_ — to live — _to survive_ — was greater than anything.

Even if he growled, he let go of you with remarkably ease. He purred as his teeth detracted from your skin. There was no need to touch your neck to know it was bleeding. You could feel it running down your skin.

You could almost see it on his lips.

And you could remember — faintly, vaguely… like a foggy dream — it happening before. It wasn’t the first time he did it — that he drank your blood.

Your eyes fell closed out of their own volition.

It was difficult to stay awake.

It was difficult to think.

It was difficult to even breath.

You wanted to be disgusted…

…mad…

…afraid…

Yet, all you could feel was numbness taking over your body. Crawling under your skin and gripping at your barely beating heart. Next thing you knew — you felt —, his wrist was pressed against your lips and his thick blood filled your mouth.

As if your life depended on it, you grabbed onto his wrist firmly, holding it against your lips as he whispered something you couldn’t understand in your ear. Small sounds — purrs — left him as he encouraged you to drink more of it — _every single drop._   

The coppery taste was strong on your tongue, _nauseating even_ , but you couldn’t help yourself. You needed it. Craved it. You could feel the slit from where the blood poured onto your thirsty mouth closing, so you teared it open with your own unsharp and plain teeth.

His hand wrapped around your throat, however, prevented you from further feasting on him.   

“Enough.”    

Your lids felt heavy, but your heart was beating normally again. With it, you — with your temporarily heightened senses — could hear another heart pulsating in you. And if you could, you bet it wasn’t different for him.

His hold around your throat tightened momentarily only to loosen shortly after. Quicker than your eyes could follow, he was in front of you; his heavy coat fell around your shoulders, covering your nudity.

Groggily, you looked down — at your bloodied fingers — and panic began to build into you. Stepping back, your tried to disentangle from him, but his fingers were back to your throat faster than you could follow.

You gasped.

“Look at me.” His voice was raspy, low and angry. You thought you’d never seen him that angry — not even when you started working for him and committed small mistakes that only Armitage Hux would find unacceptable. “You’ll leave the First Order, (Y/N) and you won’t ever come back.”

You furrowed your brows.

Why would you do that?

_How would you do that?_

It wasn’t like the First Order allowed anyone to leave it — only dead and you had no wish to die anytime soon.

You even wanted to voice that question out loud, but his fingers around your throat prevented that. You couldn’t make a sound.

“You’ll forget this night ever happened.”

His nose was almost brushing yours now; his full-blown pupils attracted yours like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to.

“I won’t remember this night,” you repeated; numbness taking over your being.

You felt tired.

_Exhausted._

He loosened his hold around you, but didn’t let go. His left hand was stationed over your hip and his eyes — of a lovely bluish color, so intense and unreadable — flickered to your womb.

You wanted to tell him…

You had to tell him…

But all you could do was stare at him stupidly as he spoke words you couldn’t understand. That didn’t make any sense.

“You never entered this room. You haven’t seen me tonight.”

Your lips trembled.

Yet… Even if your heart screamed at you — it knew it wasn’t the first time it happened, it is, that he made you forget what happened —, that it wasn’t right, your lips repeated his words as if they were the most natural thing you’ve ever spoken.

“You won’t remember me.”

_What?_

“No.”

You clawed at his hands. Starched them. With all your mighty. But it did nothing to him. He merely tightened his hold, cutting your breath short.

“You, (Y/N) (L/N), have never met Armitage Hux.”

_No._

“You’ll leave the First Order and raise your child away from here.” His voice became deeper, somber… but it also became lower. You almost had to struggle to hear it. The hand pressing your windpipe fell to his side, but the other remained on your hip, keeping you on your feet.

“We’ve never met before,” he spoke slowly, as if his words hurt him too. Your heart was in pieces right now. “Repeat it.”

You shook your head.

_No._

You didn’t know what he was doing to you — what he thought he was doing —, but all your memories — otherwise vivid and colorful — became gray and gradually vanished from your mind. In the back of your eyes, each scene, each moment of your life in it he took some role was… disappearing. You were there… Everything was still there, but something was… _missing._    

“Pl-Please.”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to forget you.”

He seemed unfazed by your plea. Both of his hands moved to your hips, bringing you closer to him. You swallowed. And lifted your fingers to brush against his face — one last time… one last…

Your thoughts were interrupted by his lips on yours.

He kissed you.

Sweetly.

Shortly.

Tenderly.

_Painfully._

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips when he broke apart. He pressed a small kiss against your sweaty temple in the gentlest of the caresses.    

“You’ll leave.” His voice was back to his usual tone. Cold. Detached. “Tonight. Lieutenant Mitaka will help you.” He wetted his lips. “You won’t tell anyone, not even the father.”   

Your heart broke at his words.

_It’s yours._

You wanted to say.

You could have said…

You would say…

If you could recall him. If you could recall any memories of him… Of this man in front of you. Who was he?

The first tear ran down your cheek, followed by many others. They touched your lips — bitter and salty — and gathered at your chin.

“I will let him know and he’ll go to you when it’s safe.”

_No._

_It’s…_ Who was the father of your child?

He brushed your tears away, but as soon as he wiped one, several more took its place. You sobbed. And you didn’t even know why. _How pathetic._ You were sobbing and crying in a stranger’s arm and you didn’t even know the reason.

“You may leave.”

He pushed you gently towards the door, one hand on the small of your back. When you typed the passcode — you had no idea how you knew it, you just did — and the steely doors opened, you cast one last look at him.

You knew this man.

You knew his face.

You knew those bluish eyes.

You could never forget those intense orbs. Nor that remarkably ginger hair.

You forced your brain to think… to remember…

 _Nothing_.

There was nothing. Everything was blank.

Your head hurt when you tried to remember him. Your heart hurt when you failed.

You even reached out… thought about touching his face — perhaps if you touched him you’d remember? —, but lowered your hands. It was rude to touch someone you didn’t even know.

“Do you remember what I said?”

You nodded.

“Yes. Lieutenant Mitaka will help me. I must go to…”

He shook his head.

“I don’t want to know.”

It was your time to shake your head. You were so confused. If the First Order was so dangerous… If it was no longer a safe place, why wouldn’t he run away with you? Why would he stay? It made no sense. And why would this man want to keep you safe? Why would he care about you when didn’t even know him?

“Who are you?”

He took his time to reply, his fingers removed a strand of your hair and placed behind your ear. Subconsciously, you leaned against his touch, seeking more of his warmth.

“Someone that you hate.”

 


	2. I - Tangled up in Red or… the bloody Journalist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovely readers! xD
> 
> I'm sorry it took such a loooooooooooong time to come back with chapter 1. What can I say? October was a terrible month, not that November is faring any better, but well... here I am xD There were the General Elections here in Brazil and for those who know me, I'm very interested and active when it comes to Politics, so I couldn't write anything before the end of the Elections. Sadly, we elected a fascist for the Presidency and we didn't do that better with the Congress either (which is absurd to elect a President and at the same time the whole Congress at the same time, people focus on the Presidential candidates and forget all about those responsible for making laws). I couldn't barely get any sleep those days and I also couldn't write a single line for my masters. Whenever I could, I went to the streets to talk to people, to advocate for what I believe... So I couldn't even think about writing fanfic. Sorry. 
> 
> I'd update last weekend, but on November 3rd, I said goodbye to my 14 year old husky. He spent a week feeling bad and on November 3rd I said my goodbyes to him. You can only imagine how crappy I felt after a week barely getting any sleep and then seeing my baby boy dying... 2018 has been indeed being a difficult year. 
> 
> Personal problems aside, here I'm to update this fic. This chapter turned out vastly different from what I intended when I first started writing it, which was before I posted the prologue. It turned out this way because of everything I've experienced as a human and political being in the last month and so far in my life. I am sorry if my life got in the middle, but I hope you can understand. 
> 
> My biggest thanks to everyone who left a kudo, bookmarked this story, mainly for those who reviewed the prologue. AydeePraysForDahmer, Tygermane, Venix, cherryart and anonymous, you guys are amazing and I love you <3 For all the anons and for trelaney who left asks on tumblr too. Thank you for your kind words and guessing. Special thanks for prisionerodelcielo too. Thank you for your kind words. 
> 
> I can only hope you like this chapter. And before I forget, this chapter (and this fic) is non linear. So, I'll be going back and forth. If it's confusing, let me know xD  
> Happy reading!

_Canto Bight Casino, Cantonica_

_Six hours ago_

 

“ENOUGH.”

Several pairs of eyes focused on you as the words — a bit louder than you intended — left your lips. With a small smile, you tilted your head in a polite gesture and continued to glide along the illustrious guests. 

On the other side of the connection, the silence lasted but a second. Soon, your ears were filled with a loud, incessant argument that in spite of your attempts you couldn’t make a thing of.

This time, when you spoke, you were careful to place a wineglass in front of your lips. Even if you despised Canto Casino and the annoying Galas to which only the wealthiest — thus the nastiest — were invited, you couldn’t say you hated it when they served _Bespin Port_. By far, that was one of the finest wines you’ve tasted in your entire life.

“I said enough!”

 _“But mom—”_ And once more, even if you tried, you couldn’t understand what the twins were saying. You felt like rolling your eyes, but stopped before you could draw more attention to yourself.

“Don’t _mom_ on me!” You placed your wineglass in a nearby tray and took another with a small smile. “Nik, you go first!”

_“But mom! I’m—_

“The oldest, Steela, I know.” _I was there when you were born, remember?_ you felt like saying. Instead, you inhaled deeply; your patience wearing thin. “This time, let’s do it in alphabetical order, shall we? Nik, you may start.”

You were about to say that if one of them said _mom_ again, you’d… Before you could finish the thought, you spotted different security guards from what you were used to whenever the feeble General Mitaka attended those annoying Galas in Cantonica.

“Okay…” You bit your bottom lip. “Can we talk about it when I get home?”

_“Yes, mom.”_

“Don’t— Oh!” You shook your head. You were so used to your children going _But mom_ all over you, it was a surprise when they simply complied. Your eyes softened a little. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Your heart clenched with guilty. If your children spent so much time arguing and yelling at each other, it was because that was one of the fastest ways to get your attention.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the anger boiling inside of you. 

How could you blame them when you were the one to spend so much time outside? Being a single mom wasn’t easy for anybody, but between your job, the Resistance and parenting — even after seven years, you were still getting the hang of it — things tended to get a bit messy from time to time. Honestly, it was far easier when the twins were just toddlers smearing their clothes all over the house. Far more tiring as well — you recalled how you’d nurse them and at the same time do your little magic and jam the First Order with your cunning words. There were times in which Nik would leave the nursery, crawl all over the house and sleep with his pillow at your feet in one of those endless nights in which you had to force yourself to keep awake while you wrote something for _The Canto Bight Gazette._

_“But mom!”_

_And there we go…_

A tired sigh left you. Yeah, things were way easier back then.

“Steela, not now.” This time, when a waiter passed nearby, you took a glass with Corellian brandy and drank it in one gulp. Your hands were trembling slightly — part of you wished you could for once get at least a bit lightheaded. If General Mitaka wasn’t the one to attend the Gala tonight, you feared you wouldn’t be able to uncover the truth regarding some negotiations regarding both the First Order and the Resistance. “We’ll talk when I get home. I love you two. _Over and out._ ”

Before any of them could say anything else — before they could go _mom_ on you —, you shut off the connection. With a deep breath, you scanned the entire Ballroom, looking for any clues that General Mitaka had just been promoted — to Grand-Marshall, hopefully — and the Supreme Leader — or Emperor as you _affectionately_ dubbed him — merely decided to improve his loyal employee’s security and thus his standing in society.

So far, all you could see — apart from the new security guards — was the wealthiest people from all over the Galaxy dressed in black and white, drinking to their hearts content. Some of them had their eyes glued on you, watching you with hawk-like attention through their expensive masks.

Part of you wondered if it was the lack of a mask or the fact you weren’t dressed in the same colors as them or… even because you were a renowned journalist. Or so they thought.

In fact, no one could say you didn’t do your job right. You did. It’s just… You had _another job_. Being a columnist for _The Canto Bight Gazette_ was something you did occasionally… Something you prided yourself for being a part of, your main activity, but a disguise for what you did _undercover._

In such dark times, it felt only right to be a part of the Resistance — both in practical and intellectual terms. As far as you knew, the new Supreme Leader wanted to give off an impression that his precious First Order wasn’t an authoritarian organization. _As if…_ The talk about _Freedom Press_ could only go so far… It could only deceive a few…

…And certainly not you.

You wondered what General Organa would say if she knew what plans you had in store for tonight. You bet she’d reprimand you; ask for you to leave at once, and this time she’d have Commander Dameron’s support — and even the Maker would find it surprising for them to agree over a topic.

_“Widow?”_

_Speaking of the devil…_

You nodded, forgetting completely that you were equipped with an archaic technology that contrary to a usual comm didn’t allow you to see your collocutor’s face, “I’m working, Dameron.”

_“So am I, Minara.”_

A shiver ran down your spine at how he addressed you. It wasn’t your true surname, but ever since you left the First Order — you could barely believe it was almost a decade ago —, you decided to lay low for the sake of your children — and your own safety — and took in another last name.

 _“Are you at the Gala?”_ he asked. If there was something you liked about Poe Dameron was the fact he went straight to the topic. Friendship aside, both of you were working right now.  

“Yes,” you replied, accepting a _Green Champagne_ a passerby waiter offered you. Dear Maker, when would the alcohol start taking effect? “Why?”

_“And I assume you didn’t get the ‘black and white masquerade memo’.”_

You smirked.

“You know me so well.”

There was silence for a moment. You could almost see his face contorting in the telltales of a smirk. You smiled in spite of yourself. 

_“I’d advise against red—_

“Oh… I’m already wearing it.” You brought the glass to your crimson-colored lips, tasting the champagne. The bubbly beverage was refreshing, if not a bit sugarier than the Port you’d just had.   

_“It’d be way easier for you to just put a target on your back.”_

You sighed.

“Who knows? Perhaps I want to draw attention.”

As a journalist, you were always seeking attention. You didn’t become the main columnist for _The Canto Bight Gazette_ by keeping a low profile. In fact, it was because of your meddlesome behavior that you could get valuable information for the Resistance and once in a while get Dopheld Mitaka talking. Part of you pitied him — he’s been the one to support you when you needed most; if not for him, you’d probably be on the streets, begging for credits so you could feed your children —, but it wasn’t your fault he wouldn’t leave the bad guys.

General Mitaka was a good man — more than you could say about the Supreme Leader, a man you hated with every fiber in your being. He just had… _To see it._ The day he removed the blindfold they put in his eyes, he’d know he’s been fighting for the wrong side all along. For now, you were grateful he didn’t rat you out and fed you tiny bits of information concerning that hateful organization of his once in a while.

 _“What for?”_ His voice dragged you from your thoughts. It sounded genuinely confused for a moment, but shortly after — as if the whole galaxy made sense again — he added, _“The twins again? Did they tie D-Five up?”_

You even opened your mouth to comment on how difficult it was getting to keep those two off each other’s throats, but closed it immediately. The orchestra had just stopped playing and the soft, pleasant notes were smothered by the imperious silence. Then, a few whispers here and there — barely recognizable for anyone but you —, hit your ears. 

_“Minara?”_

You furrowed your brows. A few guests shifted their attention to the main doors located at the entrance of the Ballroom. You followed their gaze, seeking confirmation for what you’ve heard when you saw it, a tall man with strikingly ginger hair crossing the threshold with Dopheld Mitaka on his heels.

A gasp left you — and several other guests as well.    

“Say, Dameron…” You wetted your bottom lip. “Does the Emperor appear in your guest list?”

 _“What?”_ You grimaced as he all but shouted in your ear. _Kriffs!_ _“Emperor as in Supreme Leader… As in Armitage Hux? The tall, skinny guy? Kinda pasty?”_

“Do we know any other?” It wasn’t like the Propaganda Boy — or Poster boy, as you once called him in one of your sharp comments in the beginning of your own career as a journalist — shied away from state posters. His face was very, very remarkable. You used to stare at one of his holovids wondering why you hated him so much. Needless to say, you never found an answer.

You shook your head and cast a glance at your left hand. Your fingers were trembling around the glass. You didn’t even understand your own reaction. “Poe?”

_“Minara... Leave.”_

You even thought about saying you couldn’t — the _Emperor_ and General Mitaka had already spotted you; the latter had his eyes widened —, but the words died in your mouth before you could speak them out loud. You stared at both of them, unable to even step aside — like all the other guests did.

For the first time, you really felt like you had a target on your back.

_“Minara?”_

It was with relief that you felt a corpulent man with a feathery mask enclosing his hand around your wrist and pulling you aside. As if the spell had been broken, you shot him a grateful smile. You didn’t know him, but you felt like you owed your life to him.

_“Minara?”_

Swallowing, you walked to the outskirts of the Ballroom, trying to get invisible. Suddenly, you regretted wearing red tonight. If you knew the _Emperor_ himself would show up at this _kriffing_ Gala, you’d have stuck to the black and white boring dress code.

“Poe… If anything happens to me, please…”

 _“Minara?”_ His voice was raspy; the connection was getting worse. _"Are you leaving?”_

“Please, take care of Nik and Steela _. Over and out_.”

*******

_Canto Bight Police Headquarters, Cantonica_

_Now_

 

You spat your blood on the floor. With extreme care, you moved your head from side to side. It ached. A lot. Even your wrists, bound with heavy handcuffs, were a source of discomfort.

For the past two hours, you spent in the company of a young police officer — really, the man was fresh as a baby; you could bet it was his first interrogation —, being questioned. For… your own safety, they said.

You could’ve smiled if your jaw didn’t hurt so much. The coppery taste of blood in your lips left you partly nauseated — and for the Maker, you’d lose it if you tasted any more of your own blood tonight — but you fought off such reaction and focused on the task at hand. It is, getting out of this stinking cell in Canto Bight Police Headquarters.

If you knew you’d get caught so quickly, you’d never have asked Poe to hack Cantonica Radio 1 and broadcast news regarding the construction of a new Death Star — which they ominously baptized _Starkiller —_ with hopes to destroy the Hosnian System — the uttermost symbol of Resistance against the tyranny that _kriffing_ organization represented in the Galaxy. You’d hoped to at least be able to flee the city — in the impossibility of fleeing the planet so soon —, but your boss was fast to appoint you as the one behind the news.

A sigh escaped you.

Honestly, you didn’t regret it one bit. Every single soul residing or even passing by the Corporate Sector had listened to the voice report. Besides the allegation of your boss — out of sheer despair; you didn’t judge the man that harshly — there wasn’t a single proof you were the journalist responsible for the news report.       

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The whispered voice made you shift your attention back to the man in front of you. He paced from one side to the other.

“I really, really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You almost rolled your eyes.

“You didn’t.”

He grimaced; guilt evident in his vibrant irises. He approached you, with a handkerchief in his left hand, but you shook your head.

“You’re supposed to interrogate me, not to me help me.”

He lowered his head, as if ashamed. In that moment, he resembled General Mitaka — from when he was a mere Officer and later a Lieutenant. You did you best to brush off such memories and stared at him.

“I-It’s just…” He bailed his fists. “It’s just not right…”

“Listen to me.” You waited till he stared back at you to continue, “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I didn’t prevent him from hurting you either.”

That much was true — yet, you didn’t judge him either; it seemed you were in a forgiving mood today. His boss, the Police Chief, was the one to assault you. What could you say? You once wrote a news reporting regarding the endemic corruption in the corporation. As a result, he’d been removed from office for a year or so, before he returned and was actually promoted.

You closed your eyes, attuning to the approaching steps outside. The sound was vastly different from when the Police Chief dragged you to one of the interrogation rooms. Soon, the steps came to a halt and a voice was heard.

 _“Your Highness…”_ There was a small pause; the speaker sounded surprised. _“The culprit is being interrogated right now. You sh—_

There was no answer from the other part. That or your heart was beating so madly against your ribcages you couldn’t hear anything else.

You sucked in a breath, trying to control yourself, so you could listen to the conversation unfolding. Sadly, your hearing wasn’t as good as your children’s and it was even worse after the incident — if you could qualify that as such — with the Emperor. However, that wasn’t so easy. _The bloody Emperor_ — Supreme Leader, you’d better call him by his right title — was in the CBPD to visit — or kill, maybe — you.

There was absolutely no reason to believe he came to free you.

And here you were, expecting to be freed by the end of the night. Or, at least, the next day. You could only hope your children were alright. And away from your house. _So much for wishful thinking…_

In a few more seconds — or a few more steps — an officer opened the door of the interrogation room, holding it open for the Emperor to come in. You bit your bottom lip as he stared at your form, bluish eyes darkening at your disheveled appearance. Before the officer could speak — or even the approaching and breathless Police Chief could open his mouth —, he cut them to it, his voice sounding imperious and unbelievably cold, 

“Uncuff her.”

*******

_Canto Bight Casino, Cantonica_

_Four hours ago_

 

It took a few minutes and a some more glasses of Green Champagne for you to calm down.

_Kriffs!_

_The Emperor_ — and you really, really ought to stop calling him that, however difficult it was —, his presence… _it changed everything._

Ever since you’ve found out the First Order started working on a second Death Star, you’ve seen more and more planets pledge their loyalty to them. Cantonica was one of the few planets that decided to remain neutral… _So far_. If Cantonica could show some strength by choosing independence, so could other planets.  

If the _Emperor_ decided to show his face at this Gala, it was either because he was trying to woo the Representatives of Cantonica, or because… You swallowed at the idea… He already had their loyalty.

Downing the Green Champagne at once, you placed the glass on a tray and walked towards your boss. The owner of the most important newspaper in all the Corporate Sector would know. He’d have to.

Honestly, you were counting on the first scenario — in such case it wasn’t all lost and you somehow could… _make them see reason_. Well, not exactly you, but someone else… Your boss, Nilim Taa, for example. But if it was the second… You didn’t want to think about it.

_For the maker!_

You plastered a smile on your face and made your way to him. A huge man, the Rutian Twi’lek of 7 feet and massive bodily proportions, he hid whomever he was talking to.

Even before you could reach him, he turned to you. An inviting, warm smile on his lips as he outstretched his hand for you.

You smiled back, but it was short-lived **.** Casting a curious glance to his companion, you spotted the one his huge frame concealed. You swallowed.

“Minara, what a pleasure.” His voice, an eternal singsong, didn’t make you feel at ease as it always did. “Let me introduce you to our esteemed Supreme Leader, Armitage Hux.”

You bowed your head slightly and offered your trembling hand for him to shake — you could only hope neither would notice how nervous you were. However, he all but surprised you when he brought it to his lips and bestowed a gentlemanly kiss on your knuckles.

“This is Minara,” your boss announced you. “(Y/N) Minara.” He smiled. “Minara has some problems following the guidelines,” he finished, shaking his head because of the lack of a mask and the proper _black and white_ clothes — and, if you could probably add, because of other things to. “But she’s one of the finest journalist out there.”   

The Emperor didn’t seem to mind this or simply decided not to comment on it — if he did, you could promptly comment he wasn’t wearing a mask either, it is, if you dared to look at him. Needless to say, you were unable to meet his eyes. Yours remained on the floor, looking at your high heels _._ In any case, a shiver ran down your spine at the contact with his cold lips.

“Enchanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Minara,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued to hold your hand.

Unable to find your own voice, you merely nodded.

“She usually isn’t this shy,” your boss commented, his cheerful — even if worried — intonation made the Emperor look intensely at you and General Mitaka smile nervously. “Right, Minara?”

“No, she isn’t…” The Emperor was reticent in his agreement. Even if you couldn’t muster enough courage to look at him, you knew he didn’t deviate his attention from you for not even a second. You could _feel_ his eyes on you and it was… _extremely unsettling_.

Behind the Emperor, General Mitaka cleared his throat, “I wonder what she’s going to write about tonight.”

“Certainly only the best, General!” Nilim interjected, his nervousness showing more at each passing second. His usual cheerful tone long forgotten; in its place, only a fragile, small man whose ideals of Press Freedom mattered very little in front of someone such as the powerful Supreme Leader. “Only the best, I assure you.”

“If the best matches the truth…” Your voice was finally heard. Your eyes finally met his and you couldn’t help but swallow. They were of the most intense blue color you’d ever seen. “Now, if you excuse me.”

You bowed your head and tried to remove your hand from his. Nevertheless, he held onto it, keeping it — keeping you — within in his grasp. His unseeingly strength fazed you for a brief moment.

“I was hoping you would give me the pleasure of accompanying me in this dance.”

You looked at him speechless. Mouth hanging open, you bet you weren’t the only one flabbergasted. You bit your bottom lip and took a step away.

“I-I... No.” You shook your head. Your boss stared at you completely horrified — after all, who were you to deny the prestigious Supreme Leader? —; you felt as if you had grown thirty heads at once — a hideous image to look at and yet, something one couldn’t simply look away. “If you kindly excuse me…”

*******

_Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Two hours ago._

 

Your lips were still tingling — your body was trembling, your head was spinning, _what, for the lava of Mustafar was that?_ — when Poe’s voice was finally heard through the speakers for the entirety of Canto Bight Casino.

The Supreme Leader was still holding you — his body went completely rigid as he heard the breaking news — in his arms, and now you didn’t wonder anymore why he was so strong, considering his lean physique.

He was looking past you, bluish eyes set on the horizon — or the next speakers, you didn’t know for real —, crushing you into his embrace. With your arms on his shoulders, you pushed him away, but you were aware he’d only let go if it was his wish.

This… The Emperor… _He…_ wasn’t a regular man. On the contrary. Among the most feared being in the galaxy there were the almighty force users and vampires. This man — the one holding you — was the second.

Licking his plump lower lip, he wiped any traces of your blood.

It explained his strength and why you felt lightheaded in his company — why you felt watched, even when you were away from his inquisitive eyes. He was trying to read your mind. You couldn’t guess his reason, but you thought he was looking for some clue on what you’d meant to write about him and the deal between Cantonica and the First Order — every dictator’s dream was to be able to know what media would write about them ahead of publication; he couldn’t be that different, right?

You were glad you did your homework and didn’t let him in more than necessary — which, was, perhaps worse. When he wasn’t able to get whatever he wanted out of you through the conventional means — if one can call prying into someone’s thoughts and memories conventional —, he did the unthinkable.

He listened to the whole news reporting with you still in his embrace; his dead heart started beating quickly in his chest, pumping blood through his veins. His right cheek pressed to yours, slowly warmed up his otherwise cool, unnatural face. Except for the way his fingers around you pressed you against him, you had no idea how he took the news of his secret — not so secret anymore — weapon becoming breaking news.

However, there wasn’t any time for explanations, for he let you go and suddenly after the doors were jarred open. Through them, you saw not only your boss’ trembling finger pointed at you, but with him a few officers from the Canto Bight Police Department.

*******

_Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Three hours ago_

 

“ _Kriffs_ , Dameron!” You placed both hands on the baluster, analyzing the distance to the floor. Right now, jumping over seemed the only way to escape this night alive. “I knew it. Cantonica is pledging loyalty to the First Order right now.”

After the ceremony started — after the most important person in all of Cantonica decided to bend the knee to some sort of authoritative jerk and all the wealthiest people decided to do the same —, you left the Ballroom — not unnoticed, you knew; all the time the Emperor had his eyes set on you — and headed to the much-needed privacy only the balcony could provide right now.

 _“Minara, what are you still doing there?”_ You thought he sounded worried; out there, in the open, the connection was even worse. At least, you weren’t feeling watched anymore, nor there was that slight pressure on the back of your head. _“It’s too dangerous.”_

You smiled as a Chagrian couple walked past you. It seemed the ceremony had just ended, and a few unimportant guests left the Ballroom to chat over expensive drinks and watch the _fathiers_ running in the racetrack. You waited till the couple was out of earshot to speak, “I know… But till last week, Cantonica’s decision was for neutrality.” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “It’s even worse than we believed, Poe! They decided to move the Capital… They… _He’s choosen Cantonica!_ I’ve to do something… I have to!”

You shook your head, the amount of alcoholic drinks you’d had was starting to finally affect you. When it only made you dizzier — and everyone knew how difficult it was for even _Port in a Storm_ to knock you over — you decided it was time to take a walk at the gardens; it would help you clear your mind and set your ideas straight.

Just like pretty much everything in this _kriffing_ planet, the gardens — the ocean as well — were artificially created. You were still to discover something a few millions of credits couldn’t buy.

_“You don’t seriously intend for me to release your news reporting while you are at the Gala, do you?”_

“Do you have a better idea?” you whispered smiling back at an old Rodian lady; your face was starting to hurt given how much you smiled that night. Inside, you were about to cry from desperation.

As expected, he didn’t reply. Of course he didn’t have a better idea. Poe Dameron wasn’t known for his plans — in fact, he wasn’t known for following other’s plans either. He was more likely to have no plan at all and make decisions out of the blue.

You were beyond frustrated.

If Cantonica, one of the few remaining neutral systems decided to pledge loyalty to the First Order, it meant all the other planets would as well; including those loyal to the Resistance — just like the Emperor said that night, the New Republic was no more, _for now only metaphorically, but soon, literally,_ and all that was left was a small group of rioters whose main objective was to set the Galaxy ablaze — would leave neutrality behind.

You were on the verge of losing everything you’ve been working so hard for the past years — all you and your friends have been working were on the brink of extinction. You could only imagine what General Organa was feeling right now. If it was difficult for you to deal with it, right now… you could only imagine how it was for someone who had fight her whole life to set the Galaxy free from the reigns of a dictatorial organization.     

So far, you could hide your association to the First Order given Cantonica’s neutrality. Free Press wasn’t only valued but expected. If you could criticize a government and still have your rights guaranteed it was only because the planet decided not to pick a side. Now…   

_Now…_

Given his silence, you decided to further press him, “Would you back down if you were me?” You bit your bottom lip. “Would you back down when you know you can make the people fight this bizarre decision?”

Once again, he chose to stay silent. A tired — and yet relieved — sigh left you. 

“That’s what I thou—

Before you could finish what you were saying, you heard some commotion in the balcony. There were whispers all around you and then silence. Utter, sepulchral silence. You were on the first steps leading to the garden, but given the commotion — or lack thereof —, you decided to stop where you were and look back. At the same time, another voice sounded in your ears in a firm and commanding tone.    

_“(Y/N), this is General Organa, and this is an order: leave the Gala right now.”_

You furrowed your brows.

Your heart quickened.

At the center of the balcony, there was the person you’ve been running from all night, the Emperor. All the guests made their way back to the Ballroom, till there was no one else outside. It is, except for you and the Supreme Leader — _Emperor_ — himself.

“I-I can’t,” you whispered and before she could say anything else, you shut off the connection without even saying _over and out._

With your head held high — there was no point in trying to make yourself invisible right now —, you climbed up the stairs and headed back to the Ballroom in silence. All this time, the tall, ginger man — Poe’s words didn’t sound so funny now — had his back turned to you. His hands were entwined at his back; his head was slightly upwards, as he faced starry night sky. When you placed your hand on the doorknob, his voice startled you.

“You aren’t dismissed, Miss Minara.”

*******

You held your breath.

_What?_

“It’s mistress,” you corrected him. “Now, if you kindly excuse me, _Your Highness.”_ You didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in your tone. There was something about this man — something about his looks, about his voice, about his standing… about his nature, that made you feel very strongly about him. And it wasn’t a good feeling. _Not at all._ “I’m needed elsewhere.”

He turned to face you, but you remained exactly where you were, unable to even cast a glance at him over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, hoping that such action could bring you some calmness.

It didn’t.

You felt once again that pressure in the back of your head. You brought your hand to your neck and let it fall to your sides.

“Nilim Taa dismissed you for the night.”

_Kriffs!_

You opened your mouth to give him a reply — some reply, any reply — but closed it shortly after. What would you say? What could you say? Your heart was on the verge of breaking your ribcages. There was so much you wanted to say — _so much you could say_ — and yet, you found yourself unable to even talk to him. You were usually a calm, collected and even rational person, but somehow… _Somehow,_ this very man — this stranger — blinded you. All you could feel right now was a bubbling anger. You hated him to your bones. It came to natural to you, you couldn’t even begin to understand such feeling.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” he asked. _Whispered._ And you tensed. Suddenly, he was right behind you. Quite but not touching. Yet, you could feel every hair in your body bristling.

“Yes,” the answer — the truth — rolled off your tongue with ease. You flexed your fingers, unable to decide whether to keep your standing or to turn around and face him.

There was a moment of silence. It was very long and somewhat even more uncomfortable and awkward than any other situation you could remember. You could hear the soft melody of a Waltz being played. If you dared opening your eyes, you’d see his face reflected on the glassy doors; the look of longing on his face.

Instead, you felt his fingers slithering over yours. And even if you felt deeply about this stranger, it felt… good to have his skin pressed against your own.

You shuddered.

“What are you doing?” you asked; too shocked with yourself to even process the fact you were leaning against him.

He chose silence.

For some reason it didn’t seem odd. It felt as if… You’ve been there before… In this situation. It felt as if you were used to expect silence from him. When he placed his smooth face against yours and slowly… very slowly… ran his nose over the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, you felt like losing it.

In a force breaker that had yourself even surprised, you stepped away from him. _Get away from me_ died in your lips, for his odd comment had you furrowing your brows, “Your heart is accelerated.”

Obviously, ‘ _as it should’_ should be your first reasoning, but it was quickly foreshadowed by _‘how in the force can you hear it?’._ There wasn’t any time for such questionings for you felt that again. The pressure in the back of your head.

_The probing._

Your eyes widened.

Two creatures — if one could qualify as such — did that. It is, probed people’s minds, force users and vampires. As far as you knew, the Emperor hated force users. Being the Propaganda Boy, he’d certainly promote force users if he were one of them.

You bit your bottom lip and stepped backwards. If the thought of the first left you with mixed feelings, the latter made you feel… exposed _._ _Vulnerable._

Worried sick for your children’s safety.

You brushed them off. It’d do you no good to think about them now. Even if you were good — quite good if you could add — at reining in your thoughts and blocking your mind from intruders, if he really were a vampire, it’d be easy for him to catch onto your feelings and read… _whatever_ you’re trying to hide from him.

“A widow… I see…”

Cornered and afraid, you asked, “What do you really want?”

He didn’t reply.

And you wondered how sickly he must be to enjoy torturing others with his silence. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him with your chin held high; your eyes intensely focused on him.    

“Your feelings regarding the First Order are quite intense.”

He was _polite_ to mention the First Order and not he himself. Instead, you boldly clarified, “I hate you.”

_And everything you and your organization stands for._

Somehow, you felt as if you shouldn’t expect an answer.

Yet, he nodded.

If he was taken aback by your answer, he didn’t let it show. With his hands placed behind his back, in a very General-like mode — rumor has it that he killed both the previous Supreme Leader and his force user apprentice when he was a mere General and took up on his role as the mastermind for that awful organization a few years ago — and walked towards you.

As you backed down, your back met the baluster. You even thought about jumping down, but he beat you to it, “I’ll catch you before you can even blink.”

You drew in a breath when you realized how close he was. In a heartbeat, he was in front of you, invading your personal space.

“I know what you are,” you spoke, more like whispered, when he took a hold of your left hand and with his nail punctured the skin of your finger. You gasped, unable to tear your eyes from the crimson drop sprouting from the small wound. “And I-I…” Your mouth hung open as he brought your thumb to his lips.

The moment his cold lips made contact with your skin, you lost the ability to speak…

_…to think._

You stared at him, speechless as he closed his lids and sucked vigorously on the small wound. A shiver ran down your spine and you slowly let your eyes shut. Part of you wanted to fight it, to yank your hand away from his grasp and to keep your thoughts to yourself.

It didn’t take a genius to understand that once he realized himself unable to read your thoughts in the conventional mode, he’d find far more Machiavellian means to get any information out of you. But if in the mind probing you’d some control of what he saw, in this fashion, you’d no idea of what unfolded behind his very lids.

With a growl, his eyes fluttered open and he let go of your already healed finger. In a heartbeat — a moment of utter confusion, really —, the Emperor took your lips in a rather chaste kiss.

_Or so you thought._

Before long, his fangs pierced your lower lip. Both of his hands slid to the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. A gasp left you as your body met his, your own hands stationing on his shoulders as you dizzily let him take you — and part of you wondered if it was the first time this kind of situation took place.

He insinuated his leg between yours at the same time he ran his left hand through the slit of your dress; his fingers slowly tracing the exposed extension of your thigh. His right hand crept through your hair as licked your lip, stroking his tongue along yours leisurely. _Boldly._ A gasp died in your throat as a shock of electricity ran through your body — and you thought his too — forcing you to open your eyes to stare at him, wide-eyed.  As for him, he quickly jerked away from you.

The Supreme Leader kept his eyes closed and even with your messy senses, you could hear the slight growl rising in his chest. To your surprise, it was a confused… _pained_ sound; his arms immediately tightened around you.

With your head pressed to his chest, you couldn’t see his expression. Nor you could make a thing of the entire situation. It was just… _Unbelievably._ Drained and bleary, you tried to push him away, till you heard his voice, “I’ve a proposit—  

However, it was cut off by Poe’s voice on the speakers…

…reading your news report.

*******

_Canto Bight Police Headquarters, Cantonica_

_Now_

It took the officer in the interrogation room a moment to heed the Emperor’s command and uncuff you. He did it with trembling hands; it was a surprise he didn’t let the keys fall noisily to the floor more than once and as you — and everyone else — expected.

The Police Chief watched the whole scene with his jaw set, but if he were against the straightforward command, he didn’t comment on that. His eyes were on you, watching you with intensity. It seemed getting promoted wasn’t enough for him, he’d have to have you at his mercy.

Guess it wasn’t his lucky day.

As for you, you were sure this was _absolutely_ not your best day. Luck was never really something you counted on, but it seemed you’re running out of it tonight.

You massaged your wrists lightly and then flexed both of your hands as soon as you were set free. Part of you was dying to wipe the dried blood out of your face — and you were somehow unable to decided whether you should wait for the Officers to leave the room —, but you did want to give the Police Chief a good look of you, because if you left the CBPD alive, you’d make sure to write about him and how his corporation handled the Press.

And another part, well… You didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself in the company of such villainous creature.

“Leave us.”

You received his words with bated breath. Part of you was afraid to be with him — alone. Even if you hated him with every fiber in your being — this man represented everything you fought against, to get rid of —, you couldn’t deny how you strongly you felt when he held you in his arms.

It’s not that it felt right.

_No._

It didn’t.

But it didn’t feel wrong either.

It felt… _bittersweet._

It sparked something in your memory. Something you couldn’t quite grasp yet, but that left you desperate to get away from him.

And there he was.

In front of you.

He waited for a few minutes after everyone left in eerie silence; his impossibly blue eyes never focused on you for a moment. And this time you made sure to have your own set on him, watching for any minimal reaction or any suggestion that he’d get anywhere close…

…to do nothing.

It wasn’t as if you could do something.

Even if you could take care of yourself fairly well — and if not for having been waiting to use the Police Chief’s strike against him and his corrupt corporation — you’d never let him abuse his power. But this man… this very man in front of you was… something else.

It was no man.

It was a creature.

_An evil one…_

The ancient lore removed from horror stories that you — having two of them at home; having giving birth to them — knew to be true. Not that your children were alike him. They were, and they weren’t.

You shook your head.

You’d lost too much blood already, if he wanted to read your mind — if he didn’t see all he wanted before when he sank his fangs into you —, now would be the perfect time. If you just so let yourself lose control of your thoughts, it’d be too easy for him to get whatever he wanted now.

_And you didn’t want to think what he could want._

Next thing you saw, he shifted his blue eyes and stared at you pensively. He outstretched his hand and offered a handkerchief you promptly accepted. You brought it to your busted lip and cleaned it. You usually healed faster than an average human, but this time — but tonight and after everything that took place —, your body didn’t seem to do the trick. It burned when the fabric met your skin.

You fought a grimace and busied yourself by looking at the detailed needlework. It had not only his initials embroidered in it, A.H as in Armitage Hux — part of you expected to have read Emperor somewhere, and the thought made you scoff lightly —, and the symbol of his precious First Order.

The sight made you bit your bottom lip and screw all your earlier work of cleaning yourself. The coppery taste of blood reached your tongue fast as you threw away his handkerchief.

If he felt offended by your gesture, he didn’t comment on that. He’d walked way, but you could see his face through the almost shiny surface of brushed steel of one of the walls. His image was rather distorted, but you guessed it was just fine for a creature such as him. His hands were entwined at his back and his head was held high as he spoke,

“I know it was you.”

You bit your bottom lip, and this time, a drop of blood hit the floor. Even if you couldn’t see it — for it was such a small reaction —, you could hear him inhaling sharply.

“But you can’t prove it,” you spoke confidently. To prove your association to the Resistance was the same to say his new ally — the people in his new home — was conspiring with his enemy. And that spoke more of his precious First Order and he himself than of Cantonica and its representatives — its people. Not a good move if you’d a say. “You can’t.”  

He looked at you over his shoulder; his expression blank.

“I don’t care.”

You furrowed your brows.

“Y-You don’t?”

Your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your bravery of seconds ago vanished completely. It could mean one thing… Actually, it could mean a lot… But you felt… you knew… to expect the worst.

The First Order and its assets — it’s most powerful asset — had nothing good offer. They couldn’t.

Furthermore, he was a vampire.

And vampires couldn’t offer anything good. Because goodness came as easy to a vampire as giving up came to you.

“I said before I’ve a proposition for you,” he spoke, approaching you in light steps. When he stopped in front of you, you’d no other choice, except to crane your neck to stare at him. “I came to discuss it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it.
> 
> This was a very long chapter. Sorry, but that's how it turned out. xD
> 
> A few explanations may be needed. I chose the surname "Minara" for reader because I'll be using it quite a lot and it feels tiring to me (and not very good when it comes to stylistics) to put (Y/L/N) all the time. That's why I chose Minara, anyways I'll be explaining why this surname and why reader says she's a widow.
> 
> Snoke and Kylo Ren are both dead in this fic, if Hux indeed killed them both, you'll have to wait and see. Next chapter will be partly in his POV. The Hosnian System hasn't been destroyed yet and nor does the Starkiller base. A few things from canon remains and others were slightly modified to fit the story line. 
> 
> In this fic, I'd like to explore the myth of dhampirs. I'll be making some modifications, so I can adapt it both to Star Wars lore and to this fic in special. Reader is not a regular human after what happened to her in Prologue, but she isn't a vampire/dhampir either. It'll also be explained in later chapters. 
> 
> For those interested, I took the names Nik and Steela both from SW. Steela as in homame to Steela Onderon and Nik as a homage to the Resistance Fighter in ROTJ. 
> 
> Now, I'd love to read your thoughts on this chapter xD
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr nymphl and stay tuned for updates!  
> I'll do my best to update Lie to Me this Friday and In the General's Bed this weekend. See you!


	3. II - A deal with the Devil or... the Bloody Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi xD
> 
> After almost three months here I am to update Bloodbound. I am SO SORRY for not updating. Really... I know I'm running thin of excuses, but I really couldn't come here earlier. One of the motives was that I went through a brief (thanks goodness) period of writer's block. I didn't know what to make of this chapter... I actually knew, but it didn't look good enough when I wrote it. You have to thank my friend, Roberta, who helped me A LOT with this chapter last Sunday. We spent part of the day talking about (you may know about it already, sorry for repeating myself) the environmental crime here in Brazil (you know how upset I tend to get with politics and stuff happening around me and how it affects my mood to write) and about our writing. She showed me some parts of her story and she said I should show mine too... So... here's chapter 2 of Bloodbound!
> 
> I can only hope you like it.
> 
> Just like promised in the ask I replied to earlier in my tumblr, I could come up with this chapter today. I almost couldn't finish it (it's so hot here in Brazil it's difficult to stay awake and to sleep well too) and I just did, so if there are many mistakes, I can only ask your forgiveness in advance and tell you I'm going to come back later and fix it xD
> 
> Now, on to my thanks. AydeePraysForDahmer, cherryart, anonymous, Spacearistocrats, iellawritestonight, bitch_hips thank you very much for reviewing last chapter. You've no idea how much happier my day gets when I see a notification for a new review. Really! It makes my day! My biggest thanks to those who bookmarked and left a kudo as well. I love you all <3 And thanks for the hits too ^^ And for those on tumblr, I love you as well ^^ Thank you for the amazing support. You guys are amazing! 
> 
> Iellawritestonight and bitch_hips thank you for commenting on both chapters xD, this chapter is for you two <3 
> 
> Happy reading!

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Imperial Suite_

_Dawn_

BLOOD.

Thick and crimson.

Screams.

Deafening and shrilling.

_Pain._

Unbearable and excruciating.

Even though a few hours had gone by since he tasted your blood, he could still reminisce as if his fangs were still deep buried in your skin. The scene was fresh in his mind; he could feel your very pain in his bones.

Armitage Hux closed his eyes while supporting himself over the parapet of his balcony. A fissure immediately appeared in the concrete under the pressure of his fingers. However, the sound of something cracking wasn’t enough to shake him off his trance.

He had to go further.

He needed to know more.

Yet, no matter how many times he visited the gore scene, he couldn’t go past your screams and the poor treatment you received by the _Poli Massans._ It didn’t help he saw it through your eyes and whatever you saw and whatever you felt was all he could see and feel.

You lay there, in the hospital bed, your brow furrowed while you bit your lip as another wave of contraction hit you with full force. There was no one to accompany you; no one to hold your hand as you screamed for help. For the pain to just… _stop._

And although he knew he shouldn’t — because he didn’t have any right to feel this way — he couldn’t help feeling guilty. It creeped through his veins and gripped his heart like a vice.

At such stage of your pregnancy, he had already figured out your child was his. Not of another. _His._ At first, he didn’t know how it could happen — vampires didn’t procreate, they couldn’t; immortality was a gift conceded to a few and with it, one had to give up on lots of things, including the ability to give birth —, but he quickly realized what happened. You got pregnant before his trip to the Inner Rim on a mission.

And yet… even aware of a fact that could change everything between you, he didn’t reach out. He knew that if he just wanted, he could find you. _It’d be so easy._ But he remained true to his promise. He sticked to his word. 

He always did.

Instead, he kept Dopheld Mitaka on your heels, helping you in any way he could. Offering you the comfort of a good house, food and even a decent and safe job. Key word: _safe._ And _for the Maker_ , how much of a surprise it was to learn you were working as a journalist — badmouthing him, nonetheless. He did try to keep you away from the media outlets, but there was so much he could do from afar.

When you became famous — a widely known journalist writing for _The Canto Bight Gazette_ —, it was impossible not to know where you lived. And yet, he never looked for you…

Until now.

So, no… He didn’t have any right to feel guilty as he watched you screaming and squirming in pain as the _Polis Massan_ , with the assistance of a medical droid, helped you through the process of giving birth.

He didn’t have any right to feel an excruciating pain and utter despair as one of the doctors held a baby boy who didn’t move, who didn’t cry.

And no… He didn’t have any right to feel frustrated as everything went black and you passed out in the hospital bed, too exhausted to remain awake. To even see if your child — _his child_ — survived.

Remorse was a feeling reserved for those who at least tried — and he didn’t. He had taken precautions to protect you, it’s true, but he doubted you would understand. He certainly didn’t feel like he deserved it for starters.

_Kriffs!_

His eyes snapped open — his full-blown pupils delineated by a small ring of crimson; the usual bluish color of his irises long gone — and he noticed the damage done to the parapet. Stepping away, he ran his hand through his ginger hair, removing it from his face.

It was when he noticed it, the sun rising in the horizon.

Usually, he’d be in the safety of his bedroom, but this time around he decided to stay in the balcony. Unlike popular belief, vampires could bear the sunlight for a few minutes. Considering it was sunrise — the same applied to sundown —, he could withstand the rays for a decent amount of time.

It is, such rule applied for vampires used to exposing themselves to the sun. For someone like him who hadn’t felt the warmth of the morning star for a couple of years, only pain was about to be ensured.

But the Supreme Leader was nothing if not obstinate and no matter how much pain he’d have to endure, he decided he’d watch the sunrise. That, or he wanted to punish himself for what he knew to be terrible choices in the past.

*******

_Canto Bight Police Headquarters, Cantonica_

_A few hours before dawn_

You felt your heart hammering against your ribcages as you left the Police Department, leaving behind a very pissed off Police Chief behind. He didn’t need to say anything — he wouldn’t dare, not with the Emperor himself being so close to you —, but no words were needed. It was quite clear his distaste for the whole situation.

The chilly air caressed your face and you couldn’t help shivering. Before you had enough time to even blink, a warm coat was placed upon your shoulders. Your breath stuck in your throat as his fingers — not as warm as when he feed on you —, lightly brushed the base of your neck.

And before you could say anything — _kriffs_! Before you could understand your reaction to his touch —, he was gesturing towards his _landspeeder_ for you to climb in. Part of you half expected an entourage, at least some security guards — what were they called nowadays? Imperial Guards? _Imperial_ _Hounds?_ You decided not to question him — and, really, it didn’t seem like a creature such as himself needed protection.

You knew for a fact that the previous Supreme Leader didn’t need protection either, but the Praetorian Guards followed him everywhere he went. They were there, at least for the show.

Casting a glance at him, unsure whether you should climb in the vehicle, or let him go alone, you took your time mulling over your two options. The first would get you to the answers you sought easier, the second, however…

You shook your head. You had already given him your answer and it was a resounding yes.  

_I-I… Yes._

You’d be damned if you backed down now. It was a unique opportunity, something you couldn’t just throw away that easily.

Yet…

It didn’t mean you were ready to be in his company as of now. You needed time… time to think and mainly to come up with a backup plan, in case something went wrong — because honestly, the odds were against you.

He seemed to sense your uneasiness, for he approached you. His impossibly blue eyes set on your face, “If you have anywhere else to be…”

It didn’t take a genius to understand the meaning of his words. _If you have someone else to go back to…_ If you took your time analyzing him — not only his words — you’d have noticed his distant approach to the whole situation. The man intent on having you at his side was long gone — in spite of his offer —; he was definitely more distracted than you’d seen him all night.

“I’m a widow,” you offered, nonetheless.

He narrowed his eyes, watching you intensely. It was obvious your answer seemed rushed and untrue and for a creature such as himself — a vampire! You expected the Emperor to be many things, except the creature you loathed the most in the universe —, smelling lies was as easy as smelling blood. He new you were a widow, you said so yourself earlier that night and he didn’t seem like a man who enjoyed being told anything twice.  

“I do have a condition, though,” you spoke, trying to change topics. If you were to really go with him, _to be his…_ — whatever he wanted you to be; he didn’t set the terms yet — you had to set a few clauses that needed to be fulfilled. 

There was no answer from his part, not even a nod. At each minimal interaction you grew surer of his dislike of unnecessary words. Before you could say anything, he raised two fingers, silencing you for good.

The Supreme Leader tilted his head slightly aside, as if listening to something you couldn’t quite grasp in your weakened state. He rounded on you, his hand on your back as he gently guided you inside the _landspeeder._  

“Let’s go.”

*******

_Canto Casino Hotel, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Random room_

_Mid-day_

 

You looked around the room you chose to contact the Resistance as you waited for See-Threepio to bring your children to the room where General Organa’s _comm station_ was placed. _The Canto Casino Hotel_ was huge — _otherworldly_ — and you could say the same about the chambers you’ve been given. You hadn’t even seen the majority of it, but only the anteroom was bigger than your apartment. It was obvious the Supreme Leader spared no effort to charm his business partners — if you could consider yourself as such.

 _Kriffs!_ You bet this very room — which looked like an unused storeroom — was enough to fit two apartments such as yours.   

Poe was in silence, but his tense standing denounced how quickly his mind was working. It was obvious neither approved of your decision, but General Organa — as always — seemed more understanding. She knew you had to do it — and for your reasons only; something she didn’t support, but respected, nonetheless. 

It didn’t take much convincing on the Emperor’s part to keep you by his side. As soon as he explained what his proposal was and actually _invited you_ — he made sure to let you know you were free to come and go as you pleased; you were by no means a prisoner — to work for him. _With him._ There was no need for further explanations, for as soon as he closed his mouth, you agreed.

_I-I… Yes._

He seemed stunned for brief a moment. The thing with the Emperor was that he was a man who quickly schooled his face, no matter how dire the situation. You shook your head, unable to understand where that came from. It felt as if you had worked with him previously, when, in truth you had just met him.

 _I’ll take up on your offer._    

Right now, you thought that was undoubtedly not the best decision. Not one made with a clear head. But you couldn’t back down. Not now. _Not ever._

Not when you had in your hands the chance to destroy the Empire. All you had to do was to show — truly show — how corrupt and dirty that _kriffing_ First Order was. It would be up for the people to wake up and face that tyrannical government.

“Minara,” Poe started, not even bothering to hide his frustration. His tired voice dragged you from whatever you were thinking and planning. “You should reconsider. It’s dangerous! It’s not safe! It’s—

“Dameron! Drop it!” At your firm intonation, he snapped out of it and looked at you, his brown eyes focused on your face. “I know what I’m doing. I’ll be okay.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder to the General, as if expecting her to agree with him — which she undoubtedly did, you knew her enough to know when she disagreed with something and _for the maker_ , it was the second time in a row that you saw them agreeing with each other in such a short notice —, to help him.

“What do you want me to do? She won’t change her mind.”    

With a defeated sigh, he sat on a chair and ran his fingers through his dark tresses, keeping his head between his hands.

Obviously, none of them knew that the Emperor was a vampire. You doubted the General would be so _comprehensive_ if she only dreamed about it. 

There was a minute of silence that was only broken by the loud fight of your children. Threepio — while obviously stating he’d die of old circuits before your children stopped fighting — had no success driving them apart. You couldn’t understand much of what they’re saying, but it didn’t take a genius to get they’re blaming each other for the fact you didn’t return last night. 

Steela — and you should’ve expected that — was pestering Nik, to the point he was about to explode in tears. You always wondered why he never fought back, but it was simply not in his nature. And in spite of their endless fights, Steela was always ready to defend her little brother whenever someone only directed a hard glance at him at school.

You drew in a sharp breath and rose to your feet.  

“Stop it, Steela! Leave him alone.”

“Mom!” they exclaimed in unison. Steela ran to the front of _comm station_ and Nik wiped the traces of tears in his eyes as he, too, made his way to you.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he spoke; his lower lip trembling. It was obvious that he was on edge not only because of Steela’s teasing. His red eyes made it very clear that he didn’t sleep well last night — if he slept at all.

You couldn’t help feeling guilty. You wanted to contact them, to tell them everything was just fine — and that you loved them dearly —, but in a room chosen by the Emperor himself, you couldn’t risk exposing your children.  

“Oh, sweetie.” You outstretched your hand. All of a sudden, you wished you could hold him — hold them — in your arms. “There’s nothing to forgive you for.” Turning your attention to Steela, you added, eyes narrowed, “I assume you took good care of your brother last night.”

She blushed.

And lowered her blue eyes.

“I am sorry, mom…” She turned to her brother and held her hand. “I am sorry, Nik.”

He seemed a bit suspicious of her outstretched hand, but took it, nonetheless. He then drew her into a hug. Steela hated hugging — or any sort of physical contact, but she let go this time and embraced her brother back.

A sigh of relief left you. For the next few hours you wouldn’t have to worry about the two of them trying to murder each other. Sometimes you wished Nik could give his sister a harder time. If he did, you were sure she’d leave him to his devices a little bit more. Steela got easily bored and Nik proved to be the perfect distraction she needed.

“Listen.” You hated to break their little moment. “I won’t be home for a few days.”

“ _What_?” they said in unison. “Why?” Steela asked shortly after. “Are you going somewhere?”

Poe scoffed, folding his arms. “Yeah. Explain that.”

You looked at him, tempted to call him out on his attitude. All you wanted to say was _Don’t be ridiculous,_ but you decided it was best not to pay him any attention.

“I’ll be working with the Supreme Leader.”

“The Emperor?” Steela asked, genuinely curious. “But you hate him!”

Poe shifted his attention to your daughter, giving her a thumbs up he thought you didn’t see. You narrowed your eyes, visibly displeased.

“Poe!” General Organa put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back. He cast a glance at you before retreating. “Let’s go. Threepio…” The golden droid shifted his attention to her, his face always the perfect image of a startled droid, “take care of the children while we fetch some _sweet-sand cookies_ and _tarine_ tea.”

Before he could say anything — do anything to prevent her from leaving, she was already gone; Poe hot on her trails.

“Princess Leia! Commander Poe! Don’t leave me alone!”

As no one paid any attention to his cries for help — and your children exchanged glances that meant the protocol droid would be in trouble very soon —, he raised his hands and let out his customary, _“I’m doomed!”_  

You rolled your eyes as they sat on the wooden floor, waiting anxiously for your explanation. Steela had a guilty look on her face — which you quickly dismissed as if she was merely acknowledging her mistake in teasing her brother endlessly —and Nik was struggling to stay awake.

“Listen, Steela…” you started, not sure of what your next words should be. “The Supreme Leader and I… we… We don’t see eye to eye, it’s true… But—

“Don’t go,” Nik cut you amidst your sentence. Usually, you hated it when any of them interrupted you so rudely, but the look in his eyes was enough to hold you off. “The Emperor is a bad man.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

The Emperor was, indeed, a bad man. And Steela was right. You hated him — with every fiber in your being and every bone in your body. But the opportunity was too good to pass. Who knows when the Emperor would let another member of the Resistance approach him? Who knows what you could uncover — and how many people you could help — under the disguise of his… assistant? Whatever it was he wanted you to _do/be_ for him. He didn’t get into the specifics as of yet.

“You’re right, Nik,” you conceded with a tired sigh. Part of you wanted to keep them close, but you knew it was a risk not worth taking. As it was, you were already risking too much talking to them in the enemy’s territory. “He’s a bad man. And what do we do with bad men?”

He cast his eyes down, not daring too look at you as he mumbled in a voice you could barely hear, “We don’t let them hurt people.”

There was a full minute of silence, as if each of them took in what you said. Until—

“But mom!”

You expected Steela to start complaining — she always did —, but this time it came from Nik. His sister was looking at you with those intense blue eyes of hers, not daring to say anything. You felt a shiver run down your spine even before you heard her question.

“We will meet the Emperor?”

“No!” It was your answer — but you were not alone in this. Nik — and only the Maker could know why — was adamant in his answer. Ever since both of your children were old enough to read, they once caught you writing about the Emperor — back then, he was merely a General, the poster-boy, as you so called him —, they became… well, Stella became a bit obsessed with meeting him. She wanted to see with her own two eyes the man you felt so strongly about. And Nik… _Nik…_ Well, Nik didn’t want to see him at all. If the Emperor was a man you couldn’t stand, he couldn’t either.

“Listen…” you started, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth. “I understand I caught you both off guard and that I promised to get you to the amusement park next weekend, but I won’t be with you next week…” The expression on their faces was crestfallen and the customary _but, mom!_ didn’t reach your years. That, or Nik did that thing about communicating telepathically with his sister and told her to stay quiet for a change. “We’ve got to lay low for a bit and I still don’t know how much long I’ll be gone for, but I promise to keep in touch whenever possible, okay?”

There was no answer from their part. Only silence. Whenever it happened — which honestly was pretty rare —, you felt guiltier than ever. It was obvious they wanted to go to the amusement park for a while and you promised it so long ago… but with your job — both in _The Canto Bight Gazette_ and for the Resistance — everything got a bit… chaotic with the Emperor’s visit and you didn’t have enough time for anything. That… and obviously they misbehaved at school and you had no choice except to ground them for weeks in a row.

Their uninterrupted silence made you sigh tiredly. _No one said being a single mom of twins was going to be easy,_ you reminded yourself.

Nik even opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when Steela placed her hand over his and shook her head. He seemed to be against whatever she said in her mind — and not for the first time you wished you could have the gift of reading thoughts —, but he agreed with a begrudgingly _fine_ shortly after.

You wanted to say something, to force them to tell you what was going on — what they were hiding from you — but before you could say anything else, you heard the sound of both General Organa and Poe’s voice.

“Who’s ready for some cookies?”

“Yay!” Steela said in blatant disinterest, while not moving from her spot at all. Poe pulled her by the hand to her feet and scooped her in his arms, pulling her over his shoulders. “And who’s ready for some piloting lessons?”

It was all it took to have her blue eyes shining as brightly as the sky outside. She stared at you, waving her hand excitedly, “Bye, mom!” As they left the room, you could barely hear her excited squeals as she asked to learn a new trick or two that afternoon. From Poe, you barely got a judging stare.  

Nik raised to his feet, but he didn’t leave the spot; his bluish eyes intense on you. General Organa stopped right behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders. She smiled sympathetically at you. Having raised a son before — a son who parted from her so young and was taken from her not long after —, she knew what it was to talk to children and explain… _difficult things._

“Take care of your sister for me, huh?” You said, itching to touch his face and mess his ginger hair affectionately — something he utterly hated. “Tell your sister I love you both.”

He nodded, accepting the hand General Organa offered him. Not a single word left his lips as he turned on his heels and left the room in her company. Alone, you let out a tired sigh and a loud _Kriffing hell._

“Goodbye, Mistress Minara,” Threepio said, ready to shut down the connection.

You ran your hand through your hair and raised your eyes to face the golden protocol droid. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows, recalling your own silver protocol droid back at home. You didn’t lose time in asking what happened to D-Five.

“Oh… Mistress Minara…” You could’ve sworn he was… _sad?_ “I’m afraid to be the bearer of terrible news.”

You almost rolled your eyes. What could be worse than asking to dismount a droid just to put the parts in random places, so it wouldn’t function properly later?

“What did they do this time?”

There was a moment of silence, as if General Organa’s faithful droid was choosing the best words to tell you the news.

“Spill it, Threepio!”

“Yes… Ah… Of course!” At the look he saw in your face, he couldn’t stop apologizing. “I am sorry for my tactlessness, Mistress Minara!”

 _Oh, Maker!_ Why must all protocol droids behave in such prolific way?

“I am afraid the twins recorded a message on Deefive…” Okay… So far so good. Nothing to be concerned about and even though it wasn’t the protocol droid’s primary usage, it could be used to record messages. You were now left wondering about the name of their addressee. It seemed pretty harmless — if you considered the activities one could caught your children doing. “…and he now is entrusted with the mission of delivering it himself to the Supreme Leader.”

 _“_ They did _WHAT?”_

*******

_Canto Casino Hotel, Canto Bight, Cantonica._

_Your chambers_

_One hour before dawn_

There was no need to look at the sky to know night was almost over. Judging from the time you spent in the Police Department and the light cast over the _holoposters_ displaying the Supreme Leader’s image, you could bet it was almost dawn.

_Almost._

Bitting your bottom, you couldn’t help getting apprehensive because of the Emperor — and part of you wished he’d burn in the morning sun. He cast one last glance around before guiding you inside the _Canto Casino Hotel_. His hand was firm on your back and he only let go when both of you stopped in front of your room.

The best room of the entire _kriffing_ place.

“We’re followed.”

_No._

You were wrong in your assertion. _He was followed._

It was obvious he understood the meaning behind your words, for he nodded. His bluish eyes didn’t deviate from you as he stated, “My guards will be here shortly.”

You furrowed your brows. As far as you knew, there was someone following him and as soon as he left, you’d no longer be in danger. _If you ever were._ The Emperor didn’t strike as a man to leave his business partners to suffer greatly while in his presence — except, of course, that fell in step with his plans. _Unless…_ He planned for you to suffer all along…

…which wouldn’t come up as a surprise.

You were his enemy.

It’d only be natural that he’d want to get rid of someone such as yourself. And yet, it’d would only attest to everything that was revealed about him tonight. Part of you didn’t want to recognize in such a fierce adversary a blatant stupidity.

And yet… dictators weren’t exactly known for their regards towards their foes. Or for thinking longer than the reach of their noses.

_Ego…_

…it blinded them. And it allowed Resistances to rise and defeat them in the due time.

“I can handle myself,” you retorted, recognizing in his offer no more than a preposterous way of watching you.

It didn’t take any telepathic powers to know he was displeased with your answer. His very eyes — of that impossible shade of blue — denounced him. The tenseness in his shoulders corroborated with your hypothesis. You could’ve backed down — and perhaps you should have; he knew his enemies, you didn’t. And yet… every bristling hair in your body told you to hold your ground against the tyranny of his suggestion.

That or the guilty that would assault you as soon as you closed the door and realized that for the first time, your hatred — you didn’t even know where it was born — didn’t get the best of you.

It wasn’t always you disagreed with your guts — working as an investigative journalist taught you that you’d have to trust the facts and the proofs you had in your hands, but above everything else, you’d have to trust your guts — but this time you wanted to.

“Your conditions…” he offered, stepping inside your chambers.

Not knowing what to do, you watched as he inspected the very corners of your bedroom, looking for… _whatever he was looking for_. You followed him, a few steps behind as he completed his thorough search. In spite of the fact there was nothing to be found — what kind of enemy did he have to leave such obvious traces? —, he sported a posture of visible tenseness.  

You wetted your bottom lip.

Your conditions…

_Right._

“I know what you are,” you started, looking straight at him. Even though he was staring at you, you could say he was focused elsewhere. And wasn’t he the whole night? Or ever since he came to your rescue in the Police Department? “And I don’t want you messing with my head.”

He pocketed his hands and for a brief moment, you could say he’d look down. He didn’t. His bluish eyes remained on your face. You felt discouraged for a moment — it was crystal clear he didn’t regret reading your thoughts earlier, in search of what, _only the maker could’ve a guess_ —, but you took a deep breath.

“My thoughts are mine alone…” You held his gaze as you continued in a whisper, as the sound of steps approaching the room was heard, “as is my blood.”

Before he could come up with any replies, you walked him outside, not even deigning him the wish of a good night.

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Dining room_

_Sunset_

It was weird — to say the least.

To have the Emperor watching you while you ate was rather… _unnerving._ Even though you said you’d rather not have dinner with him, he insisted. After all, business deals were sealed at dinners, so why shouldn’t you discuss the terms of your… _job_ at the dining table? Not to mention, that was a great opportunity to see how he behaved when it was only the two of you with no pair of eyes watching your interaction. Yet, it didn’t make having those impossibly blue orbs set on you less intimidating.

Instead of eating — you knew vampires could eat if they so wished, but he didn’t have to keep the façade with you —, he was merely drinking. A human servant poured the same _Bespin Port_ served at the Gala last night into both of your glasses.

You couldn’t help but notice he’d a horizontal scar on his left wrist. It wasn’t exactly news that vampires all around the world — General Organa once told you how the few vampire politicians she met in her life didn’t shy away from having blood slaves — kept humans and other species too as personal donators. As slave trades became more and more unethical and planets who heavily relied on them watched their economies eroding slowly, the nefarious practice gave way to something quite similar — _kriffs_ , it was the same thing with a fancy name! —, if not somber.

It brought another dark thought to the forefront of your mind. Earlier that day, right after you said goodbye to your children, you checked on the news, only to have the horrific image of a very dead Police Chief all over the _Holonews_.

You pushed your plate aside; your appetite long gone. The very image of his heart yanked off his chest in a display of brutal violence made your stomach churn heavily — even the high-priced wine didn’t sit well with you anymore.

It’d be a lie if you said you never imagined him — well, not exactly him, but a bunch of people, the Emperor included — dead. However, to see it like that was… _completely different._ You wanted the Police Chief to pay for his crimes, yes… that much is true, but you wanted him to do it alive.

At the head of the table, the Emperor brought his glass to his lips, watching you over the border of his chalice. He followed your eyes and noticed how they lingered on the servant’s wrist. By now, you were thoroughly distracted…

“I don’t do blood slaves,” he spoke as he dismissed the servant.

His voice was distant. No more than a whisper for your still messy senses, _for your distant mind._ When the meaning of his words — should you receive them with relief? — reached you, the words automatically spilled from your mouth, “But he’s one.”

“He was.”

His quick reply — you always thought him to be a man who took his time thinking his answers through — made you grip the napkin between your fingers with more force than necessary.

 _He was…_ It either meant the Supreme Leader didn’t do blood slaves anymore — did he find out the wonders of synthetic blood? Somehow, you doubted — or that he rescued the boy from the slave trade. You almost snorted. The very idea was ridiculous. The Emperor didn’t strike as a man who had any time — nor the disposition — to put an end to slave trades.

No.

Something smelled fishy.

You felt your blood pumping faster in your veins at the thought of unveiling the secret behind the _I don’t do blood slaves._ You wondered if it would lead to something bigger on him.    

There was silence for a brief moment as he studied you and you studied the possibilities of further investigating that seemingly unimportant topic. You bit your bottom lip, your thoughts all over the place.   

“You’ll know about it if you agree to my terms.”

Your head snapped in his direction. You did nothing to hide your fury at his blatant disregard of your conditions. Before you could open your mouth to make him remember them, he beat you to it, “I never agreed to these terms of yours”. The shadow of a smirk on the commissure of his lips made you tremble in anger at both yourself and him.

He rose to his feet, immediately offering you his hand. “Come, Miss Minara. We have a lot to discuss.”

*******

_Canto Bight Police Headquarters, Cantonica_

_Morning_

Even though he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Whenever he closed his lids, he’d be assault with images of you lying in the hospital bed, blood trickling your legs as you screamed in pain.

Whenever he opened his eyes, he’d see your blood, but differently from the hazy, fading image, it was a much vivid and recent scene. In it, the blood trickled down the side of your mouth.

Hux even reached for your thoughts, but you easily blocked him. Not for the first time, he found himself astonished with your ability to keep him away — it wasn’t everyday that he found a mere human capable of keeping vampires at bay. He couldn’t help the pride spreading in his chest. At least, he wouldn’t have to teach you that.

He knew it wasn’t because he had fed on you. That much he was sure of. No, judging from the way you moved your jaw as if it hurt, he knew you’d been assaulted.

So, despite the fact that it was mid-morning and the sun was high in the sky, he left the safety of his rooms — of his Palace — and was now in front of the one responsible for hurting you.

On the way to the Police Headquarters, he lost no time doing a thorough search on the Police Chief’s career. It didn’t come off as a surprise that he’d been removed from the Corporation before due to his own misdeeds and that you’d been the one to denounce him in _The Canto Bight Gazette._

At the same time, you brought that newspaper prestige, you also put your life on the line. It was obvious you were still alive no thanks to him. He’d have to put on a compensation for General Mitaka latter.

Hux waited for no announcement before he entered the Police Chief’s office and closed the door behind himself. He’d some questions for the man — questions he wasn’t sure he could ask of you as of yet, but that he desperately needed answers for — and decide his fate based on how well he answered them.

Part of him expected the corrupt Police Chief to fail miserably.

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Emperor’s Study_

_Now_

 

There was no discussion about how opulent the Canto Casino Hotel was. However, the Imperial Palace was magnificent. It was grandiose. Even though you weren’t easily impressed, you couldn’t deny how much appeal the location held. You could certainly think of a few — _screw that!_ There were several; hundreds even — that would applaud the Emperor’s choice.

To choose the _Old City Boys’_ domain to set up his Palace was audacious _._ The Supreme Leader was bold — a shiver ran down your spine as you recalled how he took you last night. You and the other mortals around could only imagine if he chose the _Old_ _City_ with the connivance of _them_ or if he took it for himself without warning — _to wage another War._      

Regardless of the answer — the true answer, not mere speculation —, he’d been cunning in his decision. It was a move that screamed of his power. He’d barely begun his reign and he’d already so much influence.  

The thought made you freeze. If he indeed took it by force, it could only mean the Resistance could be in danger… Someone powerful enough to destroy the _Old City Boys_ could do so much worse to you. On the other hand… If he’d managed to seduce them — what in the _kriffing_ hell did he offer that the Resistance and General Organa couldn’t? —…

You shook your head.

What a great foe the Supreme Leader was.

_What a great foe indeed…_

As soon as he opened the double doors of his gigantic — everything in this damn place was simply astoundingly huge — study, you couldn’t help but notice the windows. They covered floor to ceiling, displaying the entire Canto Bight to Emperor’s appraisal.

He walked to his desk while you stopped in front of one of those giant windows. He didn’t bother turning on the lights — he didn’t need them to see whatever he was looking for, and neither did you; the lighting cast by the _holoposters_ outside was enough to enlighten the whole room.

It was no surprise to find out the _holoposters_ featured his face. You kind of expected that. He was — you corrected yourself, _is… He is… —_ the Emperor, after all. To see your analysis making the headlines was another story altogether.

Before you could say anything — or even wrap your head around everything that took place since yesterday —, he was offering you a shot of _Port-in-a-Storm._ Subconsciously, you brought the glass to your nose… and stopped when he snorted.

He said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

The message was clear in his blue eyes.

You shrugged and drank the wine at once, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand afterwards. It took you a while to get drunk with your slightly enhanced senses, but it didn’t mean you liked _Port-in-a-Storm_ either.

He stood by your side, his shoulders almost brushing yours as you continued to watch the _holoposters_ outside absently. Silence dominated the place and the only sound to remind you that at least one of you were still human — and alive — was the sound of your breath.   

“Say it.”

You cast a sideways glance at him. His voice was no more than a whisper — and in the quietness of the study, he didn’t need to stress the words for you to hear him. He knew — and you could only wonder how — that your senses were if not like his, at least similar.  

“I know you have questions for me.”

This time you didn’t hold yourself, “Several.”

He nodded, expressly indicating you should _go ahead._

He expected your questions.

He wanted them.

He needed them.

_He welcomed them._

The only reason why he brought you to the Imperial Palace wasn’t because he wanted to be in a secluded place to discuss the terms of your new function — whatever it was, so far you were in the dark. No. He’d far more darker intentions.

Here — in this very Palace —, he’d have the upper hand. He wanted to corner you. He wanted to play you and control the game. You were a mere puppet in the hands of the puppeteer.

You bit your bottom lip.

_No._

You wouldn’t play this game. Not now. If you were ever to play a game with him, it would be on your terms. Not his. _Never his._

So, no… Even though you’d several answers and he could answer every single one of them, you decided you wouldn’t ask them. At least, not right away.

You’d bid your time.

A little bit of caution could never hurt.

You turned to him; your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. It was a dangerous game… _this one you were playing._ One you wouldn’t be able to back down from, should the need arise. You drew in a breath. It was now or never.

“Show me.”

He looked at you, his impossibly blue eyes boring into yours. For the briefest of seconds, you felt that light pressure in your head. Then it was gone… You held your chin high and wetted your lips before you spoke — to see the most delightful reaction born in his regal face.

“Show me the world in your eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...?  
> What will Hux answer? 
> 
> I decided to chance how I write in Hux pov. I'd write "she/her" but I decided to use you in the scenes focused on him. Let me know what you prefer. It doesn't really matter to me. Tell me how your experience as a reader was affected (if it was at all) but the word choice. 
> 
> I know this chapter just throw more mysteries in the air and barely answer the others I threw in last chapter... but be patient with me. I'll answer all your questions in due time. 
> 
> And for the section 'credit where it's due' - The blood slaves thing is inspired from both Anne Rice (really? She's the one who made me love vampires), but mainly from The Originals. There are a few scenes in which Klaus, during dinner and family gatherings, has humans tearing their wrists open and let their bloods fall into chalices for the vampires and their guests to drink. Question is... Does Hux 'do' or not blood slaves? 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr nymphl to see the edits I make and stay tuned for updates!  
> See you hopefully soon!
> 
> PS: I think I'll be able to update Lie to Me this weekend. See you xD  
> Love you all!
> 
> PPS: btw, have you seen ElmiDol posted part 3 of her Sir General series? If you haven't go read it right now! I could only read chapter 1 and it's amazing already!


	4. III - Undisclosed Desires or... the Bloody memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my lovelies xD  
> Well, it's not Lie to Me nor In the General's Bed, but it's something, right? xD  
> Do forgive me! I'm almost done with chapter 6 of ITGB and I'll start working on Lie to Me. It's just... time has been something scarce and I've to make do with what I have.
> 
> I was working on ITGB when I saw an interview with our vice-president, which is... not exactly the most admirable man (well, to be a part of this ridiculous government, he couldn't be), but his behavior has been impeccable with the Press lately, thanks to his media training classes. And from this... I had the idea for this chapter. And one thing led to another and here you've it. 9k of Bloodbound to all.
> 
> Besides this interview, this chapter was largely inspired by some parts of Phasma novel (I simply LOVE Brendol's speeches about the First Order) and also the animation Star Wars Resistance. Guys, if you haven't watched this series please do. It's REALLY good. I tried my hand at a more political Hux and I hope you do like it. So, if you notice that something was said in another media by some other character, well you're not wrong xD 
> 
> As always, my biggest thank you to everyone who bookmarked, left kudos and reviewed last chapter. You guys have NO idea how much your input means to me. Really! AydeePraysForDahmer, cherryart and Tygermane, your reviews made my days. And to each one of you who interacted with me on tumblr, know that I love and appreciate your notes and asks as well <3
> 
> This chapter is a gift to Trelaney. I know it isn't much, but I hope it can help lifting your spirits. Love you <3 
> 
> Without further ado, may I present chapter 3 of Bloodbound - Undisclosed Desires or... the Bloody memories.  
> I hope you like it!  
> Happy reading xD

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Emperor’s Study_

_Mid-morning_

 

THE EMPEROR EYED YOU INTENSELY.

…and you swallowed. Part of you hoped he didn’t notice the otherwise meaningless action, but you knew better. His impossible blue eyes left you and set back on the _holocams_ calmly _;_ the tiny devices captured every micro expression and every word he said.

As expected — as the Resistance previously informed you —, he’d an interview scheduled for today with _Corporate Sector Newsfeed._ If not for Poe’s tip, you wouldn’t know what was to happen, as the Supreme Leader seemed to only remember to warn you of his schedule this very morning — and you couldn’t help feeling like it happened before… _in another life, perhaps_. Having had no contact with anyone from _The Canto Bight Gazette_ you weren’t warned of this… _impending_ appointment.

The _NewsNet Corporate Sector Newsfeed_ advocated strongly for neutrality. You were once invited to work for them. But while their political views interested you greatly, they were very strict with their journalists, which didn’t benefit you, nor the Resistance.   Ever since the rumors concerning the possibility of Cantonica — and the whole Corporate Sector — pledging loyalty to the First Order, the _NewsNet_ made their opinion very clear, informing the general public of the dangers of standing between an upcoming war between the New Republic and the First Order.

_If only they knew…_

The New Republic posed no threat for anyone. Honestly, they didn’t even recognize the First Order’s very existence. They completed ignored General Organa’s — former Senator Organa — warnings. And that was a grave mistake. When the First Order attacked, it’d be swift and merciless.

You folded your arms, watching as he answered each question with the ease of a seasoned statesman. Even if you despised him and everything his organization stood for, you couldn’t deny how well prepared he was for their questions. And the _NewsNet_ couldn’t possibly have tipped him before; you doubted he’d accept any interview in which his image could be so badly damaged. Unless…

_He’s trying to prove a point._

But guess what? He responded with poise and firmness akin to your expectations. He made even the trickiest questions seem easy. And there were plenty of them. You’d expected the _Corporate Sector Newsfeed_ and their representative — a female Rodian named Rosey Cadevon, a newbie; you could only wonder how nervous she must be feeling right now — would inquiry him about the recent agreement between Cantonica and the First Order; the sudden decision to change the Capital. Instead, just a few of their questions — _their first questions_ — broached such topics. Now, the journalist made it her point to make him stumble on his answers concerning the Starkiller Base.

You shivered.

Part of you feared for her life. You weren’t new to this and you’ve seen so many of your colleagues who dared to oppose that hateful First Order simply… _disappear_ that you wondered if the same would happen to her.

“…what are your thoughts on this?”

You shook your head. You were so lost in your thoughts that you missed a great deal of their conversation. Besides, you were very tired; having slept less than two straight hours, you were exhausted. No wonder you were spacing out a bit. But that wouldn’t do. You knew he wouldn’t give the answers you sought that easily. If you wanted to get something meaningful out of him, you’d have to pay attention to him in every possible moment. Blinking, you focused your attention on the Emperor. There was a slight tilt of lips as he replied,

“I see no military confrontation taking place anytime soon between the First Order and the New Republic, unless…” There was a slight pause as he brought the glass of water to his lips. You almost snorted. His lips and throat were no drier than Cantonica’s superficial ocean. “The New Republic attacks the First Order. However, Lanever Villecham has in its best interests to seek a peaceful alliance with the First Order.”

His answer had you narrowing your eyes.

Bastard.

_Kriffing bastard._

You honestly didn’t know which was worse. If the Emperor and his political ability to turn any enemy into a potential ally… or the current Chancellor — a corrupt man capable of abandoning the democratic ways to join a tyrannical organization.

Biting your bottom lip, you risked a glance at him only to find his eyes set on you, watching your every reaction carefully.

“Supreme Leader, if both the New Republic and the First Order are on talking terms now and planning an alliance, we can assume the use of a superweapon will no longer be necessary.” It was the journalist’s turn to make a brief pause. She adjusted herself in her seat and drank a bit of water. Part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was poisoned. “The public is entitled to know when it will be deactivated.”   

He returned his attention to the _holocam_ fluttering above him.

“It won’t.” His response had you holding your breath. He didn’t pause this time, quickly amending his sentence, “The Galactic Republic insisted on not establishing a military branch, which costed them greatly during the Clone Wars, not to mention, it left the Chancellor with no choice but to trust the Jedi. The New Republic followed their steps with the _Military Disarmament Act_. The First Order won’t commit the same mistake. As Supreme Leader, I can assure you and the public our aim is defense and not attack.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

He nodded, “By all means.”

There was another brief pause, as if the journalist, with her with big and starry blue eyes, needed time to think about her next question. You shook your head, quickly catching on what just happened. Although the _Corporate Sector Newsfeed_ professed their inclinations towards an independent planet _and_ _system_ , it was clear they’d already changed sides. That’s why they sent the novice. If she was to simply disappear, they could blame it on the growing violence. If an hour ago you thought she was doing great, now you knew she was simply… _reckless._ And reckless in your profession oftentimes walked together with _disposable._  

The Emperor didn’t let her ask her next question. He continued, as if he was giving a highly important speech, and couldn’t be bothered with interruptions. Rather, he wouldn’t tolerate _any_ interruptions.

“The Galaxy’s been shown no mercy since the fall of the Galactic Empire. As the representative of the First Order, I acknowledge the many flaws and corruption growing inside the Empire and the reasons why it fell, but I also do recognize the very same signs within the New Republic.”

“And the First Order doesn’t have any flaws?” she asked bluntly. You held your breath. She had the courage to say things you weren’t sure you’d dare. But then again, she didn’t have two children who depended on her. Any wrong question and maybe your children would grow up without a mother — needless to remind anyone of the fact they didn’t have a father. No matter how much you fought for justice, you were usually… subtler in your approach. “Are you saying that an organization that advocates for strict control could possibly make it work for the entire Galaxy?"

He wetted his lips. You didn’t know if the glint in his clear irises reflected amusement or annoyance. On what you’ve recalled of him — and you honestly didn’t know where it came from; you didn’t know him at all —, he wasn’t a man known for controlling his rage very well.  

“What about freedom of speech?”

There was silence for a moment, as if Armitage Hux was gathering his thoughts.

“Freedom of speech for whom?” He devolved in the same blunt tone, but with the schooled facial expression of a man who was used to talk to the masses… or that had been through many interrogatories — as the inquirer, you couldn’t picture him as the one interrogated — and knew very well how to school his features in order not to give away any information to his enemy. “The New Republic advocates that through the sheer existence of a Senate everyone can have their opinions heard, which cannot be farther from the truth. While Populists and Centrists fight over petty politics, the forgotten corners of the Galaxy suffer with poverty and unending violence. The First Order seeks to bring equality to all and promote peace through absolute order. However, to achieve this goal, we must destroy all forms of tyranny that disguise themselves in the form of this rotten and decadent democracy.”

He was a great orator, you’d to give him that. For a moment, he almost had you believing he cared. Then you recalled that the First Order had invaded planets — destroyed them and made their people slaves — just to build their military prowess. And it was only the surface — only what you knew. Their secret archives probably had so much more to say than the meaningless data you gathered so far about their Starkiller superweapon.

Before long, the interview was over and Rosey was gathering her belongings. The Supreme Leader had left his study and you found yourself alone with her. She didn’t talk to you, but her starry eyes were trained on your face with something akin to resentment. _Anger, perhaps._

She was about to leave when she turned to you and finally spoke what was on her mind, “You used to be my role model. _I_ became a journalist because of you.” Her voice was full of disgust. You swallowed. If you didn’t have ulterior motives to join the Emperor, her words would’ve had a great impact on you. “But I guess congratulations are in order, Miss Minara. You’re an outstanding Press Secretary. Far better than you’re an investigative journalist.”

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Emperor’s Study_

_Dawn_

 

You bit your bottom lip as you smoothly slid inside the Emperor’s study. It was almost morning and as far as you knew, the Supreme Leader was already tucked into his bed. If you wanted to dig something on him, it had to be now.

And it had to be in his study.

Because… where else would you find any important information concerning him and his… associations and future plans if not in his office? Perhaps his _datapad,_ but he didn’t get away from it and unless you dared to get the Emperor out of his clothes… You shook your head. _Better not head there._

After a sleepless night with dreams of all sort — each concerning the Emperor — you sure as hell didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about him. You rolled in your bed, trying to get at least some rest, but whenever you closed your eyes, you saw him. Whenever you fell into a slumber, he was there. It felt as if those weren’t dreams, but some sort of memories. But it couldn’t be. You’d just met him a couple of nights ago. Three… _four_ nights at most. Swapping day for night wasn’t doing your poor brain much good.

You concentrated on the task at hand; there was no time to lose.  

As it is, it was difficult enough to get into his study without being noticed. There were _sentry droids_ all over the Imperial Palace — not to mention a clever astromech BB-unit that was never that far from the Emperor. _You wouldn’t be surprised if he preferred droids over people._ The Palace — the Emperor himself; what a joke! He could take all eight guards in a matter of minutes, if he wanted — was also guarded by the Praetorian Guards.

It took you some effort — and recalling your previous interactions with BB-8 — to get rid of the black BB-unit. Whenever the Emperor retired for the safety of his chambers, the small rolling droid would patrol the corridor in which his study was located. And you knew that it wouldn’t take long for it to come back and find you where you shouldn’t be.

Hacking into their system wasn’t that difficult. For an organization that lurked in the shadows for so long and that posed such a threat to the whole galaxy, their security system was rather fragile. That… or your digging was expected.

You bit your bottom lip, unsure whether to proceed or not. You shook your head. There was no way you’d back down now. If you wanted to get rid of Armitage Hux, you’d better do it soon. There was no time to build any lasting friendship or any sort of trusting relationship — the very idea filled you with nausea — just to stab him in the back latter.

The interface of the First Order’s main system was… something you felt rather familiar with. You felt as if you were acquainted with it as much as you were with the Resistance’s… which couldn’t be true. When you worked for the First Order, you were… a lowly officer in training. You’d never have that kind of special access you were having now.  

As if it was something you accessed daily.

_No._

You were getting paranoid. There was nothing familiar about the system — nor the Emperor himself.

Blinking, you flexed your fingers and started your search. Your goal was to find anything conclusive regarding the structure of the Starkiller Base. You were this close to finding it — Poe and Kazuda Xiono had done one hell of a job together. For someone as young and as crude as the Hosnian pilot, the boy proved to be trustworthy time and time again; he deserved better for his job done aboard the Colossus station. You’re glad Poe disobeyed General Organa’s order for the umpteenth time and helped him — and as soon as you found some kind of map or anything the Resistance’s engineers could work on, you’d be done and perhaps you’d be able to leave the Emperor’s nasty presence and rejoin your children.

And yet… Each minute you spent in his company had you eager to find more about him… In order to destroy him, of course. At this point, you knew that destroying the First Order would’ve to go beyond destroying their superweapon. _But hey, a girl can dream!_

“Minara?” Poe’s sudden voice startled you. Breathing deeply through your noise, you readied yourself to reply, when he continued, “Do you copy?”

You let yourself relax in the chair as his bluish image flickered through the old-comm. Your eyes, however, remained on the search engine.

“Dameron, took you long enough.”

He snorted.

“As if I could contact you at any time, Minara.”

There was another reason why you’d to be in the Emperor’s study. The Resistance was supposed to contact you today — this morning. At first, Poe was puzzled when you said there could only be any exchange between you during the day, preferably before sundown, but he followed your instructions, nonetheless. Besides, that was the safest place to contact someone outside without being caught. It seemed the Emperor was a man who had a few things to hide as well…

However, no matter his retort or his doubts — you were sure General Organa shared of his growing suspicions —, you could feel the warmth in his tone as he reported your children’s greetings. You felt yourself smiling for a brief moment, your attention totally focused on his _holoprojection_. Steela was dying to show you the few tricks she learned with Poe and Nik… Your sweet boy just wanted you to know that he missed you greatly.

“Any luck with the archives?” he said, changing topics as soon as he noticed you biting your bottom lip.

You nodded, shifting your eyes to the screen in front of you. There wasn’t much in the computer station. So far, not as much weakness as you expected in a construction as majestic as the Starkiller base. Inserting your _datacard_ , you started copying whatever information you could find. 

“There isn’t much,” you admitted with a sigh of defeat.

He folded his arms. “As expected.”

There was a slight nod on your part. You removed the _datacard_ and inserted it in the your old _datapad._ “Kriffs! And it’s encrypted.”

“That was going too easy, (Y/N)… _Way too easy_.”

You sighed deeply. “Sorry, Poe, it may take me a while to crack their code.”

He swallowed, working his jaw as he looked into your eyes. If not for your convictions, you’d have felt guilty given his inquisitive stare.

“Or you could send it to us and let the experts deal with it.”

You narrowed your eyes; your reply ready in your tongue. However, there was no time for it, for before you opened your mouth, you heard steps in the corridor and the incessant beeping of the BB unit.

_“Come again, Deebee-three?”_

You could almost see the Supreme Leader tilting his head towards the little droid. _What is he doing here?_ He was supposed to be having his… _vampiric sleep_ right now. How could be up and about at this time of morning?

The BB unit — now you knew the devilish thing was named DB-3 — let out a series of _beeps and boops._ To what you could hear the Supreme Leader responding with _Interesting._

“ _Kriffs!”_ You cast a look over your shoulder, towards the door and then back at the computer station. For a moment, all you could hear was the beating of your heart. “The Emperor… I-I… I’ve to go!”

Before you could end the transmission, he caught you off guard with a warning that had your legs going instantly slack, “Minara, the skinny, ginger guy has an interview with some _NewsNet_ this morning. Be ready to report in two days’ time.”

_“What?”_

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Greenhouse_

_Afternoon_

 

As soon as you were done with the journalist, you followed the Emperor out of the study room and entered some kind of greenhouse. At first, you were startled to find him heading directly to the sun, but your fear — if you could call it as such — was quickly dismissed when you realized that instead of the burning sunrays, the little light that entered through the special glass didn’t seem to hurt him.

Special glass. _Of course._

You bit your bottom lip, shaking the bad feeling that gripped your heart for a moment. You wouldn’t dare to give it much thought. The fear of losing someone that you didn’t even care — didn’t even know — to begin with was ridiculous at best.

Letting yourself relax — even if just a little; relaxing too much around a creature as dangerous as the Emperor would be a fatal mistake —, you took your time looking around the greenhouse. From the known Cantonican flora to some species you’d never seen in your entire life, there was no denying how breathtaking the place was.

His back faced you as he filled a small glass with Corellian brandy. You approached him carefully. It was startling to notice — with the small and rare sunrays that entered the greenhouse; after a few days in his company, you were starting to think the sun was your enemy as well — how much younger he looked when the sunlight reflected directly into his ginger hair and clear irises.

In spite of the sun shining bright outside, you couldn’t help a shiver. The place was as cold as a refrigerator. It didn’t escape you how every _kriffing_ room in the Palace seemed to sport temperatures below what’s considered suitable for humans. 

He turned to face you, his bluish eyes trained on you as he removed his coat and offered it to you. Even though you thought about refusing it, you knew it’d only draw more attention to yourself and right now you couldn’t afford that.

“I ought to compliment you…” you stopped yourself, as if deciding how to address him. Using his name didn’t seem _adequate._ You were no friends. “ _Supreme Leader._ Your answers were… rather…”

“Political?” he offered, not unkindly. Armitage eyed you over the rim of his glass as he drowned the amber liquid. “You didn’t seem to enjoy them.”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure on how to reply to his statement. Feeling bold, you stepped closer to him. He offered you the Corellian brandy, to which you shook your head.

“Too early for me,” you replied. As you hugged your frame, you couldn’t help but feel the _datacard_. You didn’t have time to properly store it in your bedroom earlier. After you heard him approaching, all you could do was leave the study through the windows, praying that you weren’t caught by any patrol droid or any First Order officer that may cross the property at dawn — or fall to the floor; you didn’t dare looking down, so afraid of heights you were. Casting a glance at him, you recalled his earlier statement. Right. _He was expecting an answer._ “I believe it’s rather a matter of agreeing with your views than enjoying them.”

He nodded, as if amused.

In a matter of seconds, he downed the Corellian brandy he had poured for you and filled another glass for him. If he were any other, you’d have told him to slow down, but you stopped yourself. As far as you knew, vampires couldn’t get drunk.

“In spite of that, I’d like to congratulate whomever offered you media training. Your bearing was exceptional today.”

His eyes darkened for a moment, then a brief smirk tilted his full lips upwards. It was such a mirthless, cold gesture that it had you regretting your entire existence for a moment.

“I’ll send your regards next time I visit my father’s epitaph.”

You bit your bottom lip, overwhelmed with guilty. You felt so strongly about your mistake, you couldn’t help looking down. It was known in the great circles of the Resistance — and you bet that in the First Order too — that Armitage Hux’s father was none other than the former Imperial Officer, Brendol Hux — his son no more than a bastard treated worse than a stray dog, whose mother was taken away from him for the sick amusement of a father incapable of having a proper heir. But as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone and you were left with anger… _for yourself._

So, this wretch had had a troubled childhood and some traumas regarding his parents, but what about the traumas he inflicted upon those he enslaved in the name of that nefarious organization of his?

And once again… as quickly as the harsh judgment came, it was gone, and you were left once again overcame with guilty and shame. You couldn’t bear the thought of the same happening to your children… The thought of not feeling sorry for a child that couldn’t defend himself from his father’s wrath made your stomach churn. Not to mention, the man of today — the man in front of you — wasn’t to blame for the suffering of his boyish version. Rather, the suffering in his tender age — a phase in which every child ought to be cherished and not despised — created the monster in front of you.    

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your eyes cast down.

He placed his fingers below your chin, forcing you to stare at him. You almost gasped at the intensity in his blue orbs. His thumb ran absentmindlessly over your bottom lip as he whispered, “There’s nothing to feel sorry for. My father’s misdeeds are his alone.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of the heartbeats echoing loudly in your ears. You bet he could hear it too, with much more clarity. Feeling your mouth dry, you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, just to brush it against this thumb. Both of you shivered.

“Please…”

You didn’t know what you were pledging for. A great deal of the night you’ve seen exactly what was taking place now. He’d invade your personal space and then… You’d see exactly what you were seeing reflected in his bluish eyes now. Anger. Sorrow. _Vulnerability._

The thought of a vile creature such as the Emperor having complex feelings like any other sentient being caught you off guard. It’d be way easier if he were just an unfeeling monster — someone whose purpose in life was restricted to wreaking havoc in the Galaxy and killing others just for the pleasure of drinking their blood.    

A gasp left you as his other hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You could’ve told him to stop — _you should have_. Yet, all you did was to stare blankly at him as he ran his nail over your throat and his breath caressed your cheek.

For a moment, you could feel him probing your mind. However, it quickly ended. You placed both hands on his shoulders — to stop him, to bring him closer. Your mind was fogged, and you couldn’t help but blame it on him and his supernatural abilities.

He entwined his fingers in your hair and tilted your head back, to have full access to your throat — to run his fangs over your jugular. Instead of unaltered fear, you could picture both of you in his bed, both stark naked as he set a punishingly slow rhythm between your legs. You moved in time with him, one hand pulling onto his ginger hair; head thrown back as you moaned in pleasure.

You shuddered.

Armitage moved from your throat to your mouth, but he didn’t kiss you, as if waiting for your permission. With your mind fogged — you weren’t thinking clearly anymore and after spending a great deal of the night thinking of him… _dreaming of him…_ you couldn’t help wanting to act on those images — you brushed your lips against his and closed your eyes. He lost no time to caress your tongue boldly with his own…

…and the scene in the back of your mind changed. He slithered his fingers with yours and with the other hand he pulled your locks, tilting your head to his better pleasure. His lips were attached to your throat; his fangs were buried deep inside of you. The crimson blood painted your chest as he brought you to an earth-shattering orgasm that had you trembling and sobbing in his arms.

His hand moved up your waist, sliding inside your clothes. The contact of his fingers — despite their coldness — with your skin was better than you expected. It felt as if it was the coolness you needed to bring down your temperature from the crescent inferno that the vision in the back of your eyes spread over your body. You tingled all over… With something akin to need. For a moment, all you wanted was for him to give you the same pleasure you’ve pictured in your mind.

The Emperor continued to kiss you, softer this time… As if it could ease the aching sensation in your loins. A small smirk took over his face as he let go of your lips momentarily, just to snatch them again fiercely. He knew what he was doing to you and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily. You couldn’t understand the sort of power he’d over you. In a moment, you couldn’t stand the sight of him and in the next, all you wanted was to take off your clothes and mimic everything that this… _dream?_ — whatever that was — showed you.

Seemingly sensing your thoughts — or reading it, you were so high on him that you could hardly distinguish it any longer —, he brought your thumb to his mouth and bit into it; his skin warming up almost instantly as he lapped at your blood.    

“What are you doing to me?” You were so afraid of speaking in a normal tone and having your voice betraying yourself — your body betraying yourself — you chose to whisper the question.

Instead of an answer, he brought you flush against his as he took your mouth in another fiery kiss; the coppery taste felt otherworldly. He eased a thigh between your legs, letting you feel his hard-on. He growled — the sound coming from the depths of his chest — as you pressed your hips together. You moaned.

The heavenly kiss was brought to an abrupt stop as his fingers — in their sinful quest for your breasts — brushed a hard surface.   

_Kriffs!_

In your lustful state, you all but forgot the _datacard._

He removed his hand from your skin and you immediately felt him withdrawing from you and not only physically. With a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever was to come — he’d found the _datacard_ and only the maker could know what he would do to you now — but he merely shook his head; his hair falling charmingly on his face.  

“You should leave, Miss Minara.”

You bit your bottom lip. Perhaps you should reach for him. Perhaps you should just… leave? Perhaps you should slap him — as the haze left your mind, you couldn’t help regretting what just took place.

“Now.”

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Emperor’s study_

_Twilight_

 

You should get some sleep.

_No._

You needed to get some sleep.

However, as soon as you learned the Emperor left the Palace at sundown, you couldn’t help but return to his study. This time, there was no need to mislead the BB unit, for it followed him… _wherever he went._ From what you heard, it was an urgent matter of state.

And yet… Part of you doubted it. If that was the case, he’d drag you with him. As his… biographer — and you couldn’t believe you accepted to follow that… _man_ around just to write his biography — you’d to be in his corner at every given moment. How were you supposed to reveal all the depths and intricacies concerning the man who was this closer of ruling the entire galaxy if you didn’t become his shadow?

After the interview this morning you were sure he’d have you around if it was a State matter. It didn’t concern the First Order — _and it didn’t concern you._ It only made you even more curious to know what he was doing.

And why he wanted to have you close.

If he really wanted someone to write his biography, he’d have chosen someone whose views didn’t clash so thoroughly with his. Someone who’d worship him, something you were incapable of.

You knew you should focus on getting whatever information from his study — the encrypted data would serve no one — but it was difficult. Part of you was still bothered after your previous interaction. You didn’t know which was worse, the fact that he knew you’re up to no good and simply let you be… Or the tingly sensation that haven’t left your body ever since your earlier rendezvous.

Shaking your insecurities aside, you put your fingers to work. But not before getting a closer look at this very chamber. It was an old building — probably one of the oldest in the entire city — which made you wonder if there were any — probably a few — secret passages. You knew for a fact that the all the rooms in the upper floor were somehow connect. Except for the Emperor’s chambers, of course. A cautionary measure, perhaps. All you knew was that you were relieved that he couldn’t reach your own bedroom through his. In his study, it seemed there were two alternative routes — besides the window, of course.

You didn’t want to think about getting that shortcut, however. Last time had left you almost nauseated. Even if you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you were a tad scared of heights. You were not sure when it began — for you had no problems with climbing growing up — but somewhere along your pregnancy the very thought of high places scared the hell out of you. Flying with Poe was absolutely out of question.

Yet… even with your heart on your mouth, you escaped through the windows. When there was no other choice left — when your own life and your secrets were at risk, you’d face your fears. But you didn’t want to willingly endanger yourself again. If you had to leave, it would be through the secret passage behind either the bookshelf or the huge _holovid_ projector close to the wall.    

This time, instead of trying to crack the code, you decided to search for more information concerning the organization in general — their upcoming plans. _If only you could get your hands on his datapad…_

You should focus on learning everything you could about the Emperor’s plans on his quest to rule the galaxy before he came back — before you left his presence. You didn’t have all your life to write his biography — needless to mention you wouldn’t be allowed to write whatever you wanted. You were sure he’d personally proofread it and then your material would go through some kind of censorship department. You’d have to do your best to gather as much data about him and the First Order as soon as possible. If it resulted in some lack of proper sleep, then so be it.

This time, however, all the search engine gave you was meaningless stuff. You bit your bottom lip, wondering if the Supreme Leader had anything to do with it — if his _kriffing_ droid really told him of your… morning disappearance.

As much as he wanted you to know you were free to go and do as you pleased, you weren’t that naïve to believe you’d go anywhere without being closely watched. It was the Emperor’s territory and he’d be damned if he let you — _his enemy_ — have your way with him.  

Well, you couldn’t blame him, right? You said yourself you wanted him to show the world in his eyes… And he was doing just that. His whole world consisted of the First Order and that was what the First Order stood for. _Control._ Strict control over their subjects. _Freedom…_ It was no more than a fancy dream in a dictatorial organization. And if you were to be honest, even though you fought for this so called freedom, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

_Freedom for whom?_

But his world consisted of so much more than the First Order… Parts of him he wasn’t willing to share with you just yet — and why would he in the first place was the million credits question — but that could — and would — help you bring down his loved organization. You knew what you’d to do, if he wouldn’t share whatever secrets of his with you, you’d look for information on him yourself.

Returning your attention to the database, you typed the word _vampire_ in the search engine…

…only to be graced with nothing. Well, nothing meaningful at least. All it came up with was tales of ancient civilizations.

The furrow in your brows was quickly eased. People didn’t know he was a vampire. _Right._ If they did, the interview wouldn’t take place in the morning — you were still puzzled with his disposition in broad daylight. As far as you knew, vampires got weaker during the day and any attack on them could be fatal.

Yet… Exposing himself could be so much more dangerous. It could jeopardize everything he worked for. _Dhampirs_ would be on the hunt. Every enemy would be on the hunt. And you bet he’d plenty. For the maker, you thought you should get a shot.

You were smarter than that.

Killing him right now would do you no good. The Emperor was the only link you had to the First Order — the only link to help you bring them down. To end their years of tyranny across the galaxy.

_No._

He couldn’t die.

Not yet at least.

History has shown time and time again that with the death of a single dictator another rose to power. Dictatorships didn’t end with its dictators, but with the absolute destruction of their vile government machine. And the First Order was one hell of a tyrannical machine.

_Blood banks._

This new search didn’t bring you much result either, but you learned that in the last decade the number of blood banks across the Galaxy grew significantly. Especially in areas dominated by the First Order — _where the Emperor lived._ The available data showed that a new blood bank opened in Canto Bight a few days before the Gala.   

_I don’t do blood slaves._

It seemed he didn’t lie.

It seemed he told the truth.

_Slaves._

That was the next word you typed in the search engine. It brought even less meaningful results. You wondered if the Emperor had tampered your possible searches, but it didn’t seem the case. It did seem to have a decrease of planets whose economy depended majorly on slaves.

But you were no fool.

The fact that some research brought as a result an apparent reduction of slavery didn’t mean it happened for real. You knew how governments tampered with their data. Needless to say what dictatorships did. Any data coming from the First Order was practically meaningless.

Your time was running thin. You knew nothing of the Emperor’ whereabouts, but you were sure he wouldn’t spend the entire night out — he had to be back before sunrise, after all.

Biting your bottom lip, you searched for your name…

…your heart thundered in your chest as you waited for the results.

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Library_

_An hour ago_

Without the Emperor’s presence, your dinner was uneventful. Quite peaceful and enjoyable, if you might add. Honestly, he kind of set you on edge — being in his company was… not what you’d have expected. Mostly because you thought you’d simply and unabashedly hate him. Certain feelings such as the empathy and guilty you felt that morning caught you off guard.

You’d rather not think about the desire.

He was an attractive man, sure. You knew you may hate him all you wanted, but you couldn’t deny he was… _desirable._ And the things he did to you earlier… In your very first encounter…

… _in another life._

You shook your head.

Part of you was sure he’d messed with your mind. There was no other explanation for how you felt that morning. He could be the handsomest man in the galaxy and still… you’d hate him. You still hated him. Right?

_Kriffs!_

You were no horny teenager.

Your teen years had gone by ages ago. You were a mother of two. You had your priorities straight. But that morning… He messed with your senses. First the dreams… then the admiration — he was indeed a great politician —, the guilty, the empathy and lastly the burning desire that left you agape. Your hatred for him and his organization was the last thought in your mind in that shared moment in the greenhouse. Obviously, it wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t interfere with your mind.  

And yet…  You had kissed him. He did nothing until you made the first move. He respected your rhythm and if not for the _datacard_ , you weren’t sure if you’d have stopped him.

_No._

You’d have.

And if you didn’t, it was solely his fault. For evil shouldn’t be allowed to be this… _alluring._  

After you were given clearance by the sentry droids — so much for _you are free to go as you please, Miss Minara_ —, you set your mind to search something on the First Order’s archives. You knew you wouldn’t be able to find much, but what you were looking for could be… found in the form of paper books, perhaps.

 _Holobooks_ were easily manipulated. Books were another thing altogether. It was obvious that a man who got his facts straight and knew so much about Galactic History would have paper books at his disposal in a Palace this huge.

The Library was magnificent — everything about the Imperial Palace was, to be honest — and the amount of different works was otherworldly, which would give you a bit of trouble. To go through their archives would be no easy task. But you had to know.    

There was absolutely no mention to you in their database — which was unacceptable. You were one of them before, an aspiring Officer, rising in the First Order ranks. Your past life — your life with them — was honestly a huge blur. You recalled some of their procedures, you recalled the life style — _kriffs!_ You even recalled the intense physical training the troopers went under Captain Cardinal and later on under Captain Phasma; you recalled how brainwashed everyone was in the First Order and all you ever wanted to know was how you got rid of them.

All you could remember was that you left and a few days later you found out you were pregnant. _With twins._

The idea of the father of your children being someone inside the Order sickened you to death — but you knew that was not only a possibility…

You bit your bottom lip.

There was no time to think about that. It didn’t matter who their father was — he wasn’t there to begin with. Steela and Nik were your children and your children alone. You had to focus on the fact that someone had tampered with your files. You were one of them once — regretfully — and you knew the First Order didn’t simply let go of their assets. You had seen stormtroopers and even Officer being shot dead for even less before. _Or disappear_ , the most common procedure.

How could you simply leave when you were pregnant without something drastic happening to you? Birth control in the First Order was taken very seriously. Pregnancies only happened if there was some kind of political interest attached to it.

Part of you was glad you had left. You knew what would happen if you stayed… You chewed the inside of your cheeks. They wouldn’t have let you keep your children — if they were even born to begin with.

If you were able to leave, it was because you never existed in their files. It was because someone in there — someone powerful — let you leave. And you were sure it wasn’t General Mitaka — a mere scared lieutenant back then. He helped you — getting settled, finding a home, providing for your children — because someone with sway told him to.  

Not to mention, how could you become a journalist and start writing articles about the First Order — about the General-turned-Supreme-Leader himself — without having something huge happening to you? Press Freedom had nothing to do with it.

Someone in the highest ranks of the First Order wanted you alive. It had crossed your mind that it was the Emperor’s doing. You were sure no Officer would be able to leave the First Order without his express authorization. However…

_However…_

If he let you leave, what could he possibly want with you now?

You had absolutely no time to concentrate on your book before your comm beeped. Swallowing, you put the book back in its shelf.

The Emperor had returned.

*******

_Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica_

_Simulator Room_

_Now_

 

You were caught off guard when the Supreme Leader announced he’d be waiting for you in the simulator room. Accompanied by another droid that gave you clearance, you found him practicing in the shooting range.

Honestly, you shouldn’t be impressed with his skills. He was a vampire and as such, his vision, coordination, and ability to concentrate vastly surpassed any other sentient being — except for those strong with the Force, you were sure no other species were a match for him. But there was another reason why you had a stupid look in your face.

The Resistance’s simulation rooms couldn’t hold a candle to this very… _place_ — whatever it was, for it was so much more than a simulation room. To put it bluntly, the First Order had not only the best training methods at their disposal, they had the best equipment too. And facilities. Well… With the income getting lower by the second, the Resistance had to make do with what they had — with what you had.

The idea of considering the Resistance something that had no relation to you made you feel mad at yourself.

You told yourself you were just tired. Some sleep would set your priorities straight — finding why there was no record about you shouldn’t be your main concern; you were there to find a way to bring the Emperor down. By any means necessary.

Shaking such thoughts aside, you watched as he hit the targets one by one with an accuracy akin to everything you’d ever seen. Not only that, but he was also fast — faster than your eyes could follow.

_Deadly._

“That was impressive,” you said, approaching him as he hit the last of the standing targets.

He didn’t give you an answer as he pressed a small button near him. Quickly, all the targets were rearranged; his blaster handed to you.

“Your turn,” he said, finally turning to face you.

His expression was somber. _Cold._ Whatever happened — wherever he went — to him, it wasn’t something of his liking.

You took two steps backs, not sure what to do. So far, your cover was practically intact. Except for knowing you were responsible for leaking the news about the Starkiller Superweapon in the Gala, he’d no way of confirming you were with the Resistance — at least you hoped so; all he had was his growing suspicions — but if you took that blaster in your hands…

To put it simply, he’d question where you learned to shoot. Your accuracy rate was far from his, but you stood comfortably at 90%. A little higher for a simple journalist. _Kriffs_! A little higher than many stormtroopers. A little higher for even an ex Officer of the First Order.

You blinked as another vision — _for the maker!_ What was happening to you? — took over you. This time, you were practicing; blaster in hands. He was behind you… _distracting you._ His lips skimmed the column of your neck and his hands ran over your nude arms. You threw your head back, exposing more of your skin to his hungry mouth.

As soon as it came, it was gone.

“I’m a journalist,” you reminded him, not daring to get too closer. You certainly didn’t want a reprisal of that morning. As it was, the images in the back of your mind were already too much.

He seemed to have guessed your thoughts — and this time he couldn’t have read them, for you kept a tight control of your emotions and mind —, for his eyes darkened as they swept over your form.

You held your breath as his stare returned to your face. He didn’t remain looking at you for long, though. He stepped away, approaching a tray where a bottle of _Bespin Port_ and one glass sat. Pouring some of the wine in a goblet, he didn’t take his time to properly savor it. Once again, your mind was invaded with scenes… _of you and him._

You blinked again, trying to disperse the images in the back of your eyes, but it was just so… clear. _Like a memory._ Echoes of a distant past that was somehow etched in your mind, but clearly forgotten. You pressed a hand to your forehead, but as you massaged your temples, you couldn’t help the torrential images.

…the two of you were in a room with a rather minimalist decoration. You were holding a glass of wine, savoring it slowly, while he busied himself with a datapad; brows furrowed in concern. You removed the datapad from his hands and took your seat in his lap, placing a small kiss to his forehead. He ran his hands over your nude thighs, sighing in appreciation as you massaged his scalp. _I’ve got work to do,_ he said when you kissed the corner of his mouth. _You work too much,_ you replied. _And you work too little,_ he whispered before snatching your lips in a light kiss.    

“I am here to help you, should you need it.”

His voice dragged you back from your thoughts. Your heart sped at what he said — not so much at the content, but at his tone and the way his lips were lightly tilted upwards.

He knew.

There was no way he didn’t. You were once an Officer and every Officer in that _kriffing_ First Order knew how to shoot. Your superiors were very insistent with _accuracy rate._ Anything under 70% was simply unacceptable.

You took the blaster from his hand, a bit unsure. Nevertheless, before you could do anything, he raised his hand, in a silent command for you to stay put. And then, without further explanations, he left the shooting range.

You thought about following him, but you stopped yourself as you saw the BB-unit leaving through the private elevator in the backroom. Trying your best to be subtle, you took the blaster in your hand and aimed towards the moving targets. With your back turned to the glassy surface that allowed anyone in the backroom to observe the whoever was in the shooting range, you started firing. 

If the droid noticed you, it didn’t alert the Emperor of your earlier escapade — that, or the Emperor already knew. The droid made a series of _beeps and boops_ you were unable to understand over the sound of your firing. You could only hear his response, a simple, “Send her away, _Deebee-three.”_

You could feel his eyes on your back, so you had no choice but to keep firing. His steps were heard, but they stopped when the elevator’s doors opened again. You thought the droid was about to leave, but this time a woman stepped out of the elevator.  

Other than a _please, help me!_ she didn’t have time to say anything else, for two stormtroopers entered from another door and took her by the arms. When they dragged her back to the elevator, you saw the biting marks on her pulse and her neck, not to mention the ones related to sharp needles both in her arms and hands.

A gasp left you.  

_I don’t do blood slaves._

You pressed your fingers more firmly to the blaster, hitting the targets as quickly as possible. Your nearly perfect accuracy went through the window. Your hands were shaking and a boiling rage took over you. Not only he did do blood slaves — and you didn’t know why you were surprised; it was obvious that a creature such as himself had no qualms about lying — but he also allowed her to be dragged away so violently. And he still dared to talk about the New Republic fighting over petty politics while good people starved in the far corners of the Galaxy.

“You said you didn’t do blood slaves,” you spoke as soon as he stepped back in the shooting range.

This time, his fast answer caught you off guard, “I don’t.”

You bit your bottom lip.

And he still dared to lie. Did he think you were stupid?

“I saw her marks.”

He snorted.

“She’s has four children to rise. And the New Republic you defend so religiously in your articles will do nothing to help people like her.” His words felt like a slap to your face, but he didn’t seem keen on stopping anytime soon. “While Populists and Centrists fight over useless bills that can do nothing to improve people’s lives in the Galaxy, people like her have to make meets end.”

_As if he cared!_

“So you do admit paying for her blood.”

His clear irises were focused on you as he replied, unashamedly, “It tastes better than synthetic blood or blood bags. She isn’t my personal donator, though. I know better than to leave them marked.”

Your eyes widened.

_You shuddered._

The way he spoke about her — with such an icy, disdainful tone; as if he wasn’t talking about a sentient being — made you realize he didn’t give a damn about anyone that wasn’t he himself. His answer, albeit simple, caught your attention for another reason.

The blood banks.

_Of course!_

They weren’t for him. Their sole purpose was to provide for his donators — for any other vampire that did this _donator thing._ Thus, he could have the fresh blood he craved and, at the same time, avoid leaving a trail of corpses wherever he went. _Clever._ Evil, but clever.

“If you really cared, you’d give her money without forcing her to go through... this.”

In two steps he was in front of you, invading your personal space. He tilted your chin backwards, forcing you to stare at him. He traced your bottom lip and you couldn’t help but shiver. It felt too close like that morning to your liking.

“Are you offering yourself, Miss Minara?”  

You hated him so much it was hard to control your urges to spit in his face. As if he didn’t pay attention to how you squirmed in his hold, he ran a nail over your jugular, quite but not piercing it.

“It’s more pleasurable than you think, although not at all devoid of pain.”

A gasp left you wrapped a hand around your throat. He didn’t do anything else, letting go of you and walking around the shooting range. He took his time looking at the targets, analyzing your accuracy. He nodded, in what you assumed was an appreciative gesture.

“You don’t have to worry,” he started, his hands running over the blaster as he took down the few targets you were unable to. “She’s already gone home with enough credits to provide for her family for weeks to come.”

You let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m relieved to know. Raising a child can be—

You stopped yourself before you could say more. But you quickly realized how much you screwed up. If starting that line was a mistake, cutting it short was fatal.    

He set his eyes on you. They were much darker and inquisitive than you recalled — even if compared to your previous moments together.

_Mother of moons!_

“What do you know of supporting a family, Miss Minara?” his voice sent a chill up your spine. “Do you have any child?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that's it!  
> What do you think will be Minara's answer? 
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is so long, but seeing how long it takes me to come up with updates, I think you all deserved a big chapter. It may take me a while to update chapter 4 - Bloody like Lemonade or... the Bloody Empire, so... here's your... well, gift? I already have 2k written, that was taken from this chapter. Yes, it'd have 11k, but I decided that it was best if I cut ended right there. Yes, with the cliffhanger. HAHAHAHA I know you hate me, but I love you, okay?
> 
> Also, I'm trying my hand with a darker theme here and not only some sexiness, a bit more common when it comes to stories involving vampires. That's why I decide to write a vampire!hux story in Star Wars universe... I'm still a bit insure about vampires and SW universe, as it seems the two don't go along very well. But I'm trying... Let me know what you think xD I also think it's a shame that the movies don't explore his political side a bit more. He's a very clever character, it's sad that it isn't fully explored by the directors. I know why it happens, it's just a movie and you've to focus on the main characters, but I think it's a shame all the same. 
> 
> One of you also asked me on tumblr about the timeline of this story. It's around TFA, but it contains elements of TLJ. Kylo has already killed Snoke, and Kylo Ren was killed as well. So it's a mixture of both. It also contains elements mentioned on Star Wars Resistance, but you don't have to watch it to understand this story. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr Nymphl and stay tuned for updates and to see the edits I make. I made two aesthetics for this story. One for Armitage Hux - The Emperor and the other for Miss Minara - The Journalist.
> 
> Well, I think that's all.  
> Love you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Well xD  
> What do you think?
> 
> I gotta say, memory loss is my "thing". My favorite story, the work I'm proudest of, is about memory loss, not in this setting with vampires... (I've also written a fanfic called Mesmerized, which I've discontinued because of several reasons and mainly because I consider it one of my best works as well) so, I'm sorry if it feels like I'm repeating myself xD
> 
> Anyways, this is just the prologue and it hints for a past together and a future uncertain. Of course they'll meet again, question is... how is it gonna be and why did Hux decided she should hate him? Will she hate him? Can she? And what about the second beating heart? Will the child survive? 
> 
> Yes, I decided to keep it canon divergence instead of an AU. I know it seems unlikely to see a vampire in Star Wars, but if there can be thousands of alien species and different things altogether in that universe, why not a vampire? 
> 
> If you'd like, I'll love to know what you think xD
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr nymphl and stay tuned for updates!


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